The Space Between
by Clowns or Midgets
Summary: With a moment's loss of control, Jack makes a terrible mistake and Sam is stolen away. Now Dean has to work with Jack and some familiar faces to get Sam back. Can they keep the faith long enough to succeed? Season 13 canon divergence from 13.03: Patience.
1. Prologue

**Welcome to the new story. This was an anonymous prompt on the Oh Sam comment meme that I claimed and got a little carried away with.**

 **Jenjoremy has agreed to juggle three stories at once by beta'ing this for me, so massive kudos to her, and Gredelina1 has supported and encouraged throughout. Thank you ladies.**

 **Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

 _ **Prologue**_

Jack stood outside the door, listening to Sam and Dean's conversation—though was conversation the right word for this amount of anger? He didn't know; he wasn't gifted enough in the facets of human words and emotions yet to understand exactly what was going on between the brothers. He was still grappling to make sense of what he himself felt most of the time.

Sam was definitely angry though. "I didn't 'end bad'. When I was the freak, when I was drinking demon blood."

Jack's eyes widened. Demon blood! Sam had said he understood what it felt like to have darkness inside, but was this what he meant? Demon blood? What could have happened to him to make him do that?

"Come on man, that's totally different," Dean said.

"Was it? Because you could've put a bullet in me. Dad _told_ you to put a bullet in me, but you didn't! You saved me! So help me save him!"

Sam sounded passionate, as if saving Jack was something more than what he merely wanted; it sounded as though it was something he _needed_. Jack didn't understand the warm feeling in his chest. He hadn't felt it before, but he liked it and wanted to feel it again. He wanted to ask Sam what it meant, and he wanted to thank him for being willing to save him when even Jack himself wasn't sure if that was the right thing to do.

"You deserved to be saved, he doesn't!" Dean said, a growl in his voice.

"Yes, he does, Dean, of course he does!"

Dean voice became harsh, accusing. Jack frowned as he listened. "Look I know you think that you can use him as some sort of an interdimensional can-opener and that's fine, but don't act like you care about him! Because you only care about what he can do for you! So if you want to pretend, that's fine! But me? I can hardly look at the kid! Because when I do, all I see is everybody we've lost!"

Jack took an involuntary step back, distancing himself from the words. Sam wanted to use him? He had said it was because he understood what Jack felt, the fear he had for his fate. He said Jack wasn't evil. After hearing Dean's certainty that he was, Jack had clung to what Sam had said as proof that he wasn't doomed.

But he wanted him to be some 'can-opener'? What did that even mean? What could Sam want him to do? He would do it. If it meant he wasn't evil, he would do anything Sam asked. But he didn't understand.

His thoughts tangled, and he tried to calm them, but it didn't work. He felt the warmth in his chest change into an ache and then a searing pain. It was as if there was something alive in him. He had felt it before, when Asmodeus had been using him to open the rift to set those creatures free. He tried to push it out of himself, force it away as he called over the voices he could hear in the library. "Sam! I need help." He didn't know what Dean meant, what he had accused Sam of, but he was the only one Jack thought he could trust even a little. "Sam!"

There was the sound of racing footsteps and Sam skidded into the hall. He looked guilty at first, as if he knew Jack had been listening to what they were saying, but it quickly changed to concern as he saw Jack's hands shaking at his sides.

"Shit," Dean said, arriving on his heels.

"Easy, take a breath," Sam said, raising his hands and fixing his eyes on Jack. "Just calm down. Tell me what's happening."

"I feel this pain," he said. "It's like before, with Asmodeus."

Sam paled and said, "You have to calm down, Jack! You can't do open that rift again, understand? It's dangerous."

"What do I do?" he asked.

"Let it go. Take what you're feeling in your chest and breathe it out."

Dean watched Jack, face angry and eyes tight, and it made the pain in Jack's chest sear harder. He tried to take control, to push what it was out, and he felt the heat and pain rise in his throat and pass through his lips. It escaped him as a golden light. It ebbed and flowed in the air, drifting toward Sam.

Dean yanked his brother back, and Sam stumbled, his eyes wide as they fixated on the light as it grew and lengthened.

"What's happening?" Jack asked nervously.

"You've screwed up, that's what!" Dean accused.

"Shut up, Dean," Sam snapped.

The light thinned and lengthened until it was touching the floor and creeping up to the ceiling. It was a pale gold and it filled Jack with a sense of foreboding.

"Dean…" Sam breathed. "Mom!"

"No!" Dean said harshly. "It's a trap. It's _him_ trying to stick you there, too."

The light spread like a door and a barren wasteland was revealed through it. The air looked dusty and grey.

Sam lurched towards it, but Dean dragged him back. "No!" he shouted.

"This is it, Dean!" Sam said desperately. "We can get her back."

Dean looked torn. His eyes moved between the wasteland through the hole and Sam's face. He shook his head briskly, pointed an accusing finger at Jack, and said, "Watch him, Sam! Do not let him close it!" His hand on Sam's arm tightened for a moment and then he released him and rushed at the hole, slipping through.

"Dean!" Sam bellowed.

For a moment Jack thought Sam was going to jump through the hole, too, and then he rounded on Jack.

"Don't let it close, Jack!" he said. "You have to keep it open till they're back. Focus only on holding it open. Just like a door."

"But I don't know what I'm doing!" Jack said, desperate to do as Sam asked, terrified he would let him down.

"Focus." Sam's eyes darted between Jack's face and the hole, and he shifted onto the balls of his feet, seeming to be fighting the urge to jump through still.

Jack stared at the hole and tried to will it to stay open. He wasn't sure if he had any control over it, it felt like it was separate to him, but he tried his best to concentrate on it. He breathed out a quick breath and more gold light passed his lips.

"Sam?" he said. "Look."

Sam's eyes moved to the light as it lengthened and spread. "It's okay," he said. "Don't look at that one. Just focus on this. Do nothing but keep that door open until they're back."

Jack nodded. He wasn't sure whether Sam really did like him or just needed him now, but he knew that Sam had faith in him and he had to do what he said. He couldn't let Dean be taken away from him.

"Come on, Dean. Find her." Sam whispered.

Jack's hands shook harder and he tried to hold his breath for fear of letting more of that light escape him and open another door.

It seemed to last forever, and Jack was exhausted by the effort, but Sam suddenly cried out in shock as something reached through the second door and grabbed his wrist. He was yanked toward the light, and as Jack shouted his name, exhaustion forgotten, he was pulled through it. Jack started toward the him, not sure whether to follow or try to pull him back, and then he remembered what Sam had said: _Do nothing but keep that door open until they're back._

Was it right to listen though? Sam hadn't known what would happen to him when he said that. He'd been only worried about Dean being safe. The hesitance was what took the decision from him. He was bowled back as two people burst out of the wasteland and fell to the floor as the hole thinned and then sealed closed behind them.

"No!" Jack gasped as the second door began to close, too. He rushed towards it, not sure of what to do, but he wasn't fast enough. He reached it just as the light blinked out.

There was a moment of silence and then he turned to the two people that had appeared. It was Dean and a woman he didn't know.

Dean got to his feet and then helped the woman up. He looked around, his face happier than Jack had ever seen it; he'd not actually imagined that Dean was even capable of smiling that widely. The woman looked around. She was coated with dust and her clothes were travel-worn.

"Look who's here, Sammy," Dean said, looking around him. His smile became a frown. "Where's Sam?"

Jack swallowed hard, scared to tell Dean what had happened. "I don't know."

* * *

 **So... What do you think? Sound like another journey you want to take with me?**

 **Until next time...**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	2. Chapter 1

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing this for me. You really are the best. Thank you Gredelina1 for helping and supporting me, and thank you all for the overwhelming response to the Prologue. I loved seeing so many new names joining me and some old familiar friends. I am so grateful to you all.**

 **Dear, Guest - sorry I don't have a name for you - thank you so much for the prompt. I am so glad you posted it as this story has been an adventure to write**

* * *

 _ **Chapter One**_

The light touched the floor and reached for the ceiling, and Dean's heart beat faster in his chest. He had known this kid was dangerous, and now he was spitting out cracks in reality. That was awesome. And Sam actually thought he could be saved!

The light rippled and began to spread, and Sam sucked in a breath beside him. "Dean… Mom!"

"No!" he said harshly. Of course, Sam would come to that conclusion. Why wouldn't he accept that their mother was dead? There was no way Lucifer would have let her live after what she'd done. He had punched her heart out or torn off her head, or something else equally cruel and hopefully fast. There was no Mary to save anymore. It was Jack's evil coming out. "It's a trap. It's _him_ trying to stick you there, too."

The light spread and the place beyond was revealed. It was the world they'd been to before –the apocalypse world. It was daylight there, though it was night on this side, just like before.

Sam made towards the rift, as if he was actually going to throw himself through it. Dean yanked him back with a shout. "No!"

"This is it, Dean!" Sam said, his voice wrecked. "We can get her back."

But they couldn't. All Sam was going to do by going through that rift was get himself trapped, too, and Dean could not handle that. He had been through too much already, lost too much: their mom, Castiel. He couldn't lose Sam, too. He was the only thing left Dean had to even try to hang on for.

He looked between Sam's desperate face and the wasteland and he shook his head briskly. If it was the only way to stop Sam going through, he would do it. Maybe he would find something to convince Sam that Mary was dead. Maybe he'd be killed himself. Maybe he'd be trapped there. Whichever it was, it was better than letting Sam go in there.

He pointed a finger at Jack. "Watch him, Sam! Do not let him close it!"

He gripped Sam's arm for a moment in what would possibly, probably, be his last contact with him and then he let go and ran at the hole. He slipped through with a swoop in his stomach and his feet met grit and dusty gravel.

He heard Sam's muffled shout of his name behind him, and he cursed. If Sam was smart, he would stay back there and keep an eye on Satan Junior, make sure he kept the way open for him to come back. That was the right thing to do, but Sam didn't always do the right thing, the sensible thing. His heart sometimes ruled him instead of his head. If it did this time, he was going to screw them all over, because Jack wouldn't keep the door open when it would get rid of both Sam and Dean: the man that hated him and had threatened to kill him, and the other that played the role of Jiminy Cricket, telling him that he could be saved from his fate to destroy the world and probably annoying him.

Dean breathed in a mouthful of dust and coughed. He had forgotten just how desolate this place was. His eyes roved the landscape quickly; he wondered where to even start, when he noticed footprints in the dirt. There were three distinct sets of impressions. Two sets looked like heavy boots, widely spaced apart and large enough that he was sure they belonged to men. The third set was closer together and smaller. They had a square heel separate to the main sole. Dean felt a flicker of hope in his chest. They looked like they could belong to the boots his mother had worn. They could be old and Mary dead, but they were clear, and he thought the low wind would have erased them if they had been more than a couple of hours old. There was a chance, the smallest chance, that she was still alive.

They led across his path and he ran toward them, following their direction to the left. He didn't know how long he would have before the rift was closed, but it surely wasn't going to be long enough for him to be cautious. He ran fast, his breath coming in pants that tickled his throat, up a hill of small rocks and sand, and then he stopped dead as he saw what was below him. His mother, miraculously alive, was with Lucifer and another man. Mary was sitting on a boulder, rubbing her calves as if they pained her. Lucifer and the other man were facing away, but Mary saw him at once. Her eyes widened and her lips parted, then she made a frantic movement with her hands. The message was clear: run, get away. Dean could not obey. He gestured for her to come to him, and then skidded back out of sight when Lucifer began to turn toward him.

"Where are you going Mary?" he asked.

"I need the restroom," she said.

"Again? I don't think you do. I think you want to see our visitor. I know you're there," Lucifer said in an amused voice. "Come out and play."

Knowing there was no evading the archangel, Dean walked forward until he stood atop the hill.

Lucifer laughed. "Dean? How did you get here?"

"Took a cab," Dean said.

Mary stood and walked towards him. Her arms were outstretched and her eyes disbelieving, but Dean thought there was more to her movements than an offered embrace at their reunion. He thought she was being smart.

"Who is that?" the unknown man asked.

"That? That, Michael, is Dean Winchester," Lucifer said, making no movement to follow Mary. "He was supposed to be your vessel in my world."

"Supposed to be?" Michael asked. "Why wouldn't he be?"

"He never actually gave it up to you. He was a stubborn ape. I was the only one that actually achieved my true vessel."

"Yeah? And how'd that end for you?" Dean asked.

"Not well," Lucifer admitted.

"I like the vessel I have better," Michael said.

"Me too," Lucifer said. "Seems much more emotionally stable."

Dean ignored them as Mary was still coming slowly towards him, staggering up the hill. "Dean?" she said wonderingly, just a few feet from him now.

Dean reached out a hand to her, and as soon as she took it, he dragged her into a run. They skidded and stumbled down the hill and pelted along the path of Dean's fresh footprints. He glanced back, sure that Michael and Lucifer would be following, but they weren't. They seemed amused. "There's nowhere to run, Dean," Lucifer sang.

"Come on!" Dean rasped. "Faster!"

He put on a burst of speed and Mary kept pace with him. Suddenly her hand jerked in his as a rushing sound approached. "Left!" she shouted.

Dean dropped her hand and threw himself to the left. It was just in time as a ball of blue-white fiery light slammed into the place they had just been. Dust exploded up and rained down on them. Dean took less than a second to scramble to his feet and make sure Mary was up, too, before setting off at a run. Dean saw it then; the door was still there. Through it he could see a glimpse of the hall in the bunker.

"Run, Mom!" he shouted.

There was a rushing sound as another attack came, and Dean veered to the left again. It hit behind them, and he forced himself to keep going. When they were close enough to the door to touch it, he grabbed his mother's hand and gripped it tightly as he threw himself at the hole. He flew through it and collided hard with the solid floor on the bunker. There was a rushing sound behind him and he glanced back; another ball of grace was coming. The door was already closing though, and before it could hit, the rift was closed with Dean and Mary on the right side.

Dean felt giddy with relief. He had done it. His mother was back, impossibly alive. Thank God for Sam's faith. Had he not been determined to go through, Dean wouldn't have, and they would probably never have gotten her back.

He got to his feet and helped Mary to stand, steadying her as she looked around. He could feel the smile stretching across his face as he said, "Look who's here, Sammy." He looked around, searching for his brother, and realized he wasn't there. His smile faded. "Where's Sam?"

Jack swallowed hard, looking terrified. "I don't know."

Dean dropped Mary's hand and took slow, menacing steps toward Jack. "Where is my brother?"

"I don't know," he said again. "There was another door. A hand came out and grabbed Sam. It dragged him into the hole. I think…" He sucked in a breath. "I think he's gone."

Dean shook his head. "No, he isn't." He looked around and shouted, "Sam! Sammy! This isn't funny!" It was Sam's idea of a joke. The bastard was getting his own back on Dean for what had happened recently. He was hiding somewhere. It had to be.

"I'm sorry," Jack said. "I didn't mean…"

"Sam!" Dean bellowed, rushing into the library and looking around. He truly expected Sam to be there, smiling at Dean's panic maybe, or taking a moment to get a hold of himself before he saw Mary. He wasn't though. The library was hatefully empty.

Mary rushed in after him and added her voice to Dean's. "Sam?"

Jack trailed in after them. "I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean pointed a finger at him in accusation. "Shut your mouth!"

Jack paid him no attention as he babbled on. "I didn't mean to. It was an accident."

Mary rounded on him, her face burning with anger. "What did you do to my son?"

"There was another door. He got pulled through."

"Pulled through by what?" she asked.

"I don't know. This hand. It was light, like fire, but white."

Dean raked a hand through his hair. This was not happening. It couldn't be. Sam wasn't gone. He couldn't be when they had just gotten their mother back. This was supposed to be the good part, dammit! They were supposed to have a chance together, to scrape their lives together again and mourn Castiel in peace.

"Sam!" he shouted.

Mary gripped a bookcase as if steadying herself and said, "I don't think he's here, Dean. I think he's really gone."

"No! No, no, no, he's not!"

Mary nodded. "He's not here. He would never ignore you like this. He would come."

Dean rounded on Jack. "What did you do to him? Is he hurt and stowed somewhere? Tell me what you did, or I swear I will end you now!"

Jack's hands fisted at his sides. "I didn't hurt him. He was taken away."

"You're lying!" Dean bellowed. "Show me where you put him!"

Jack closed his eyes and when they opened, they were gold. Dean felt no fear at the show of power, not even when Mary took his arm and tried to pull him back. Then Dean saw the same light that had opened the door pass Jack's lips and float towards him. Dean didn't move, refusing to be quailed, and the light rushed toward his face. His eyes were momentarily blinded by a golden glow and then a clear image flooded his mind. He seemed to be looking through someone else's eyes, as the view changed as they looked around. Sam was there, staring into the rift Dean had entered. His face was taut with anticipation, but there was a small smile playing on his lips. He was leaning forward on the balls of his feet. There was a second rift, but this one hadn't opened wide. It was just a flare of light. As Dean watched through the eyes that flickered between the two rifts and his brother, Sam cried out. The eyes snapped to him as the hand created of light grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the light. With a look of horror, Sam disappeared.

"Stop!" Dean shouted. He couldn't bear to see more. The image receded from his mind and he covered his mouth with a hand, not able to process what he had seen.

"Dean?" Mary said tentatively. "What is it?"

Dean lowered his hand slowly and spoke in a broken voice. "I saw it. This hand grabbed him and dragged him through." He raised his eyes to meet his mother's. "He's really gone."

His misery communicated to her, and she wrapped her arms around him and hid her face in his shoulder. Dean felt her shaking, and it took him a minute to realize the shaking was him transferring onto her. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair, ashamed of his weakness but so grateful that she was there to provide comfort.

She pulled back and Dean saw her eyes were wet and her face smeared with tears. She held his face in her hand and wiped at it with her thumbs, catching his own tears and sweeping them away. "We'll get him back," she said.

"How?" Dean asked. "There could be a million worlds through that rift. We have no idea which one he was dragged into."

She released him and wiped her own tears away then turned on Jack. "Who are you?"

"I'm Jack."

"He's Lucifer's damn kid," Dean said.

Mary nodded. "And you opened these doors?"

He nodded. "Yes, but I didn't mean to."

"You will this time," she said harshly. "Get my son back."

Jack shook his head, his face twisted with misery. "I don't know how. I didn't mean to do it. I got upset and there was this feeling in my chest. Sam told me to breath it out, and I did. I don't feel it anymore."

"You're not even upset!" Dean said accusingly. "You have trapped him God knows where, and you're not upset. Sam was the one that believed in you. He thought you were good. The only person on earth that wouldn't want you dead is gone, and you don't even care! I knew you weren't human, but I thought you'd at least have some emotion."

"I am upset," Jack said. "I didn't mean to do it, and I feel bad, my chest aches, but I don't feel the same pressure as before. It's different now."

Dean turned away from the creature. He was furious and wanted to attack, but he knew it would do nothing but hurt him and maybe get him and his mother blasted into a wall. He couldn't let her be hurt.

"I'm sorry," Jack said.

Dean turned to him and spoke through gritted teeth. "Do you really think that makes a damn bit of difference? Do you think we even believe you? You did this to him. Do you know what took him? I do! I saw it, and I know what this means!"

"What is it, Dean?" Mary asked.

"A damn angel!" he said. "That was grace that reached for him. Hell, he could be trapped with some alternate Lucifer again, and unless this son-of-a-bitch gets his head out of his ass and _feels_ something again, he's trapped there forever." He turned to Jack. "Your damned father probably has him again, and you have no idea what he did to him last time! He drove him out of his mind. Sam was tortured for almost two centuries, and it ruined him. You might have done that to him again! I knew you were an evil bastard, but I didn't think you'd do this to the only one that seems to give a damn about you."

"I didn't mean to. I really didn't. I was trying so hard to keep it open for you. I wanted to help."

"You failed," Dean said cuttingly. "You killed Cas and your mom, and now Sam."

Jack winced. Dean guessed it was the mention of his mother that had upset him.

"Sam isn't dead," Mary said angrily.

"No, maybe not yet," Dean agreed. "But if it's Lucifer that has him, he's worse than dead. And there's no Castiel to save him this time."

"Castiel," Jack breathed.

"Yes, the other poor bastard you got killed. Remember him?"

"Castiel," he said again.

Dean waved a hand at him. "Get away from me. Go to your room, go anywhere, just make sure I don't see your damn face."

Jack turned and walked away; his head was bowed and shoulders slumped. Dean watched him, feeling nothing but loathing for the creature. As Jack turned the corner, Dean heard him saying Castiel's name again. Sure, that was the one he'd cling to, the one that he mind-fucked into helping him, not Sam who had been trying to help him and got banished to what was probably a new kind of hell for him.

Mary tugged Dean's hand. "Come on. We need a drink. Then we can get to work on finding a way to get Sam back.

Dean wished he had her faith. He knew there was no way to even start to get Sam back unless Jack tapped into whatever it was inside of him that enabled him to open those rifts. Then they had to find the right one among the millions that were probably there.

And all the time, Sam was surely suffering, needing them to get him back.

* * *

In the infinite darkness, Castiel lay on the cold floor, sleeping what was supposed to be an endless sleep. He was perfectly at peace, until he heard something whisper his name. He opened him eyes and looked into the darkness all around him. He didn't know where he was or what had happened, he just knew he was needed.

He stood and brushed his hands down himself, feeling the solid body beneath his clothes, though he felt almost disconnected from it. He started walking and then froze as he heard the voice again.

"Castiel."

It was one word, three simple syllables, but it brought something to life in his chest. He knew, without understanding how, that he was needed.

He had to get back.

* * *

 **So… Where do you think Sam has ended up? Throw your ideas at me before the next chapter when we'll find out.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	3. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for your work on this one. You fix my mistakes, tidy my sentences, and always have the answer to my random questions. Thank you also Gredelina1 for supporting my while I let my imagination run wild with this.**

 **The prompt for the story came from the OhSam LJ page which is a page for Hurt!Sam themed stories. I have attempted to serve the prompt with as much Hurt/Comfort as I could cram in, but it will take a little while to get there. Dear Guest Reviewer/Prompter, please be patient with me. I promise to deliver what you asked for.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Two**_

As the warm hand wrapped around his wrist, Sam cried out. He saw Jack's scared face just before he was yanked back through the rift.

His feet hit a solid floor and the impact rocked up his knees, jolting him. The hold on him released, and Sam snatched his hand to his chest, feeling his heart hammering against his ribs. He tried to breathe, but his mind was still reeling from what had happened, stealing his breath.

He looked around, trying to make sense of where he was and what had happened to him. It was hard, as his thoughts were tangled with shock. He rubbed his chest, trying to calm his heart, and looked around.

He actually felt his heart stutter and threaten to stop as he realized where he was. There was no mistaking it, even though it felt wrong, warm instead of icy cold and lacking the fire. The walls were made of gridded bars with holes barely large enough for his fingers to slip through. The air outside the bars yowled as if in a strong wind, though there was not even a breeze, and it was inky black out here, no life at all within the darkness. He was back in the place of some of his worst nightmares. He was in the Cage again.

His heart began to race again, agitating him, and his breath came in shaky gasps.

He looked to the side and his eyes fell on the archangel that was watching him curiously through his half-brother's eyes. Lucifer had said his imprisonment in the Cage had broken Michael, and God had seemed to confirm it when he said Michael was in no shape to fight Amara with them. They hadn't lied. Though Michael wasn't curled up in a corner singing showtunes as Lucifer had said, he had definitely lost his mind. His eyes were wild and filled with excitement and a kind of burning Sam associated with passion. His smile was wide, almost maniacal, and Sam saw approaching pain in it.

He understood the change in the appearance of the Cage now. When Lucifer had been here, it had been at his command. He had liked the walls of fire, the chain and the rack. Michael hadn't appreciated that the fear was as much in the setting of the torture as it was in the pain itself. This was the Cage at its most basic form, as Sam had only seen a few times during his previous imprisonment, when Lucifer had been too preoccupied battling Michael to take notice of their surroundings and Michael had stripped it back to its base. Michael was a purist. He had wanted to Cage to look and feel as what it truly was, what it had been created to be.

The warmth was explained, too. Lucifer had burned cold, and his influence had filled the Cage with frigid air that had made Sam's breath smoke. Michael was the one that was warm, in some twisted version of the warmth of God's grace upon you.

Sam believed that, rather than appearing to him as Adam as he had before—and Lucifer Nick—Michael was actually using his brother as a vessel again, as there was no sign of the burned husk that had been all that was left of Adam before Sam was saved. He would have looked unassuming, familiar, if not for the insane eyes and power he exuded.

He tilted his head to the side. "Hello again, Brother."

"You're not Adam," Sam said.

He laughed. "There's no need for pretense, Lucifer. You know exactly who I am already, and I know who you are."

"I'm not Lucifer! It's me, Sam."

Michael sighed. "Is this some new game, Brother? You're going to pretend to be the Winchester? We both know the truth." He began to circle Sam, walking around the edges of the Cage, trailing his fingers over the gridded bars. "You left me alone. I didn't like that. I got lonely. The vessel was no good, broken and the soul gone as it was, so I had no one to talk to but myself. I was lonely."

Sam shook his head his head jerkily. "It wasn't me that left. It was Lucifer."

"Don't lie! I can see you. I can sense you. Do you think I will not kill you if you aren't him? You are wrong." His long sword slipped into his hand and he raised it threateningly.

Sam saw the approaching agony, and he willed himself to keep control, to not beg. To be a Winchester. It was almost impossible. He was terrified. Being back in the Cage was almost as bad as what he knew was coming. He was supposed to be free of this place. He had served his time and paid his dues. He had been freed! Why did he have to come back? What had he done that was so wrong that God would allow this?

Michael tapped his blade against his palm, eying Sam speculatively. "Draw, Brother."

"I can't," Sam said desperately. "I don't have a blade. I'm Sam!"

Michael shook his head as if shaking away a fly and drew back his blade. Sam forced himself to look into Michael's smiling face—just as Dean would have done—as he slowly moved it forward into Sam's chest with his inexorable strength.

He felt ribs breaking and the tip of the blade sinking into his heart with the kind of twisted awareness that only the Cage could bring. The pain was unimaginable and impossible to describe. He screamed as his heart gave a fragmented beat and a wave of weakness spread through him. He fell back into the hard floor as his eyes swam, and he felt the tug as the blade left him.

He couldn't die, as the Cage would not allow that reprieve, but his eyes drifted shut and he lay perfectly still for a moment, even as the pain washed through him, and then the momentary blissful unknowingness came as his body was remade and wiped clean again, ready for the next attack.

His eyes opened, and he saw Michael peering down at him. "Well, that was different. Why didn't you fight? I miss fighting, Lucifer. It was almost as good as the torture."

Sam sat up and got to his feet. He expected Michael to force him back, he had liked Sam to cower before him, but he didn't; he moved back to allow Sam space, still tapping his sword against his palm.

"I can't fight, because I am Sam," he said. "Lucifer is the one that is free."

"No," he argued. "I know my brother."

Sam shook his head, wishing there was some way to prove it, though what that would do for his situation he didn't know. Michael would possibly enjoy hurting Sam as much as he would fighting Lucifer.

The archangel turned away from Sam and raked his blade over the walls, making a scraping sound that set Sam's teeth on edge. "I thought I would be alone forever, and I despaired," he said. "Things became clearer after you left, though, and I realized why Father had allowed me to be trapped here. I was supposed to defeat you, but the damned vessel defeated us both. I cannot be free until I have conquered you as was foretold. I cannot kill you here, I know that, but I can destroy you. Only when I am victorious and you are broken completely, will He set me free."

Sam shook his head. "You can't beat Lucifer. He's not here. I _am_ Sam. You were the one that dragged me back here."

Michael looked at him with his insane, roiling eyes. "Stop! I am tired of that act already. I saw you, Lucifer; I felt you when that rift opened. Your power was like fire. It seemed even more than it had been before, but I sometimes forget things now, my mind plays tricks. I know what you look like though, and that hasn't changed."

"Because _I_ haven't changed," Sam said. "I am the vessel. Lucifer is in Nick again now. And he's trapped. He's not even in our world. There is some kind of alternate world where the apocalypse happened. Lucifer is there!"

Michael shook his head. "These aren't even good lies, Brother. The Nick vessel was destroyed. You told me that yourself. And the Winchester had none of the power I can sense from you."

Sam closed his eyes a moment. There was no reasoning with Michael. He was insane, too crazy to see the truth. He had sensed Jack when the rift opened, and that seemed to have stuck inside his addled mind. Even though Sam was powerless, he was still seeing what he wanted there.

He opened his eyes again and looked into Michael's, seeing the pain approaching again. He didn't try to flee or fight, as he was nothing against an archangel. He didn't even try to reason with him. He just stood still as Michael stepped towards him again and said, "Draw your sword."

"I can't," he said quietly.

"Then I will make you."

He swung his blade through the air, slicing through Sam's stomach. Sam collapsed, his hands coming automatically to try to stem the blood and hold himself together. Michael leered over him, his smile wide as he saw Sam's distress.

"I expected better, Lucifer," he said. "You're going to be easy to break after all."

Sam squeezed his eyes shut as a plea escaped against his will. "Dean, help me…"

* * *

Mary directed Dean into a chair and walked to the cabinet where they kept their cheap liquor in expensive crystal decanters. She poured two deep measures and carried them back to the table. Dean collapsed into a chair and took the offered drink. He took a deep slug and then set the glass down.

He squeezed his eyes shut and just concentrated on breathing, on getting through the next second, and then opened his eyes again and looked at his mother. Her eyes were wet again, and her face twisted with sadness. Dean wanted to reach across the table to her and take her hand, but he wasn't sure it would be accepted. At some point she would understand his culpability in what had happened to Sam, and then she would pull away from him. He didn't think he could bear it, so he held back, preparing himself for what was to come.

"What happened, Dean?" she asked. "Did Jack make the rift again?"

"He was upset," Dean said. "He must have heard me and Sammy talking, arguing, about him. He started shouting, and Sam tried talking him down. He told him to breathe out what he was feeling, and apparently he took that to mean spit out another damn rift."

Mary nodded. "And you came for me."

Dean bowed his head, ashamed. "Sammy was going to go through. He thought he could get you back, and he was set to take the leap, but I stopped him. I had to go, even though I was sure it was a waste of time."

"You thought it was a waste of time?"

Dean knew from her expression that she was thinking of the conversation they'd had when he had been trying to break the brainwashing she'd undergone. He had laid blame at her feet for every crime that spread from her deal, every way it had changed his life and doomed Sam. He thought she was surely misunderstanding him, thinking that he had not cared; perhaps she believed he thought it was what she deserved.

"I thought it was a waste because I'd given up. I was sure Lucifer would have killed you as soon as you were through that rift. I thought you were dead. I'm sorry, Mom."

She shook her head. "You couldn't know he would let me live. I didn't think he would either. It makes sense that he would have killed me straight away."

Dean smiled sadly, feeling guilty at her understanding. "Sam didn't give up. It was more than faith; it was like he _knew_ you were alive still. He's been working with Jack to try to get him to open another rift. He's been trying all this time, and I was so mad at him. It was like he was burning me every time we spoke about it. After all the shit we've seen, every time it's gone worst case for us, and he just wouldn't accept it."

"If you thought I was dead, why did you come looking?" she asked.

"Because I knew if I didn't go, Sam would, and he would never come back until he found you. I thought he would never be able find you, so I had to go." He swallowed hard. "I couldn't let him be lost, too."

"You were protecting him," she said. "I'm glad."

"I didn't do a very good job of it, did I? I let him get taken away. That little dick opened another damn rift and some evil bastard angel snatched him."

Dean paused a moment. Though he couldn't have stayed and let Sam go instead, had he made the wrong choice? Should he have stopped either of them going? He wanted his mother back, and there were no words for the relief he felt at her survival and return, but he wished it hadn't come at the cost of Sam. He had no idea how he was going to get him back now, and he was terrified for him.

It things had been different, knowing what he knew now, he would have let Sam go for Mary. Sam would have rescued her, and if Dean had been taken, too, Sam would have found a way to get him back.

"I should have let him go," he said.

"Maybe," she said. "But I understand why you couldn't. You told me what you have had to do for Sam since you were a four-year-old. There's no way you could have turned your back on that, especially believing what you did. You made the right choice with what you knew. You were protecting him."

Dean nodded. "I was. Didn't turn out that way though, did it." He looked at the door. "It's all that little bastard's fault. If I could kill him…"

"You can't!" Mary said.

"What? You're kidding, right? He's trapped Sammy we don't know where with some angel. Anything could be happening to him."

"Exactly," she said calmly. " _He_ did it. We need him to undo it. You said he was upset…"

Dean shook his head. "Even if we find a way to open a rift, I don't think he can aim them. It could open up anywhere."

Mary looked angry. "I guess we should just give up now then."

"I've not given up," Dean said defensively.

"Sounds like you have."

Dean's hands fisted on the tabletop and she reached across and held them.

"We can do this, Dean. I know what you've done for your brother before. This is just one more way you can save him. We'll work on Jack, get him to start opening these rifts, and we keep opening them until we find Sam. Understand?"

The passion and certainty in her voice seeped into Dean and he nodded. "Yeah. Okay. Sam was working some way with him to get you back before."

"We need to find out what it was," she said. "And get it started again."

Dean sighed. He could barely look at the kid without wanting to punch his face in. How was he supposed to work with him?

As if she had read his mind, Mary squeezed his hands and said, "If it's what it takes to get Sam back…"

"It's what we've got to do," Dean finished for her. "Yeah. I'm with you. We'll go talk to him."

She released him and stood. Dean downed the last of his whiskey and stood, too. He had a feeling it was going to take a lot more than a few glasses of whiskey to get through this though. Working with Jack was going to involve a massive amount of self-control. Not something Dean prided himself on.

* * *

 **So… Poor Sammy. He's back in the Cage, and this time Michael has lost the plot.**

 **It's hard to write Dean as so hateful toward Jack, even though at the point this story started, he was. It will eventually improve. You just have to hang on.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	4. Chapter 3

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing this for me, Gredelina1 for supporting me and you all for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Three**_

"Jack!" Dean shouted as he walked toward the bedroom Sam had set him up with. "Come here!"

There was no response, not that Dean really expected one; for the kid to step up when they needed would be helpful, and he'd proven he couldn't be that. Ripping holes in the universe, sure, that he could do, but actually helping people, not getting them sucked into other worlds, he wasn't so good at that.

He shouted his name again and threw open the door of the room and looked around. The bed was empty and neatly made, and there were books on the desk along with a mug of pencils beside a notepad. Dean wondered if Sam had been having some kind of therapy session with the kid.

"Jack!" he barked.

There was a small shifting sound and he turned to see him sitting in the corner, arms wrapped tightly around his knees. He looked small and unassuming there, no sign of the massive amount power he possessed in him. It pissed Dean off.

"Up!" he snapped. "We need you."

Jack didn't rush to stand. He eased himself up and walked towards him slowly. "What do you need?"

"Another hole!" Dean snapped. Why else did the kid think they'd be there?

"I told you I can't…" he started.

Dean opened his mouth to speak over him, but Mary laid a hand on his arm and he snapped his mouth shut again.

"Jack, my name is Mary. Sam and Dean are my sons. I need you to help us. Will you do that for us?"

Jack nodded, seemingly reassured by Mary's tone and carefully chosen words. "Yes."

"Good. Now, to get Sam back, we need you to open another door."

"I don't know how!" Jack said quickly.

"We're going to find out how," Mary said calmly. "You said you were upset when it happened before. What were you feeling?"

"There was this pressure in my chest, like a weight, and Sam told me to breathe it out."

Mary shook her head. "That's not what I mean. I mean what did you _feel._ What made you upset? What were the feelings that came first?"

Jack frowned at the question. "I don't understand."

Dean spoke before his mother could. "Come on, you must have been pissed, hearing us talk about you."

Jack shook his head. "I don't think I was angry. I felt more… betrayed. I thought Sam understood, that he was helping me, but he wasn't. He was just using me like Lucifer and Asmodeus want to."

The comparison made Dean angry. That he would dare bunch Sam and Lucifer in the same group was damn wrong. If he thought it would do any good, he would slug him, but it would just give him a sore hand.

"It wasn't like that," he growled. "Sam wasn't using you. He was the one trying to help you."

"You said he wanted me to be a… can-opener."

"I was angry!" Dean snapped. "I'd just lost an old friend that didn't deserve to go, and there was Sam defending _you_ : the thing that killed Cas, that got our Mom taken away and—I thought—killed. He was mad at me because I told you I'd put you down, and that made me mad, so I said some shitty things. But Sam…" He shook his head and gestured to his mother. "This is what he wanted you to do. He wanted to get our _mom_ back. He wanted you to help us. That wasn't selfish. That was Sam doing what he does best—helping and saving people, so you feeling betrayed is bullshit, because, and I have no idea why, he actually liked you."

Jack nodded, a small smile playing around the edges of his lips. He actually looked relieved, as if the fact Sam liked him mattered now, despite the fact he had trapped him in some unknown world with an unknown angel.

"Okay, so you felt betrayed," Mary said, steering the conversation back on track. "What else did you feel?"

"I was scared. I felt like this thing inside me that's supposed to make me evil was winning. Dean sounded so sure I was going to turn bad, and I don't want to."

Dean rolled his eyes. He maybe didn't _want_ to be evil, but that didn't mean he could control it. He was right to be scared. Dean was.

"What else?" Mary asked.

"Just sad," Jack said. "I'm always sad."

"Sad?" Dean scoffed. Being sad was a part of being alive. How could you be in this world and not feel that with all the crap that was happening?

Mary laid a hand on his arm and said, "So we need to recreate that feeling."

"How the hell are we supposed to do that?" Dean asked.

They couldn't betray him, because to do that they had to have some form of affection for him in the first place. Dean sure as hell didn't have that. How could he after what he had done to them?

As for making him scared, Dean could throw all the crap at him that he had, but he was pretty sure it wasn't going to make a damn bit of difference. That couldn't really scare someone like him. And there was no threat of physical injury that could scare him, as he was sure there was nothing they could do to him. Jack had been stabbed with an angel blade and it hadn't killed him. He'd spent an evening stabbing himself with a kitchen knife and all he'd achieved was a ruined t-shirt.

"We'll find a way," Mary said.

"No, we won't," Dean said. "I've seen this thing in action and there's no way we're going to be able to scare him." He rounded on the kid. "What was Sam doing with you?"

"He'd talk to me," Jack said.

Dean shook his head irritably. Of course he'd been talking. Sam had been a quick learner and started talking on his first birthday, and he hadn't shut up since. Dean only really started to worry about Sam when he went quiet.

"What else?" he asked. "Something actually helpful this time maybe."

Jack frowned. "He wanted me to move the pencil."

Mary nodded eagerly. "Telekinesis."

"I don't know what it was called, but he seemed to think it was important that we try. I got upset though, and he said we could stop."

"The hell with that!" Dean said, clinging to the idea. "Sit your ass down." He pointed at a chair, and Jack pulled it back and sat down. He folded his hands on the tabletop as Dean snatched a pencil from the mug and slammed it down in front of him. "Move it!"

Jack reached for it and Dean slapped his hand down on the table.

"With your damn mind!"

"I know," Jack said quietly.

He moved the pencil a little closer to him and then laid his hands palms down on the table and stared at it. His brow scrunched with effort, and Dean held his breath as he waited, his eyes fixed on the pencil. It didn't move, and Dean sucked in an irritated breath.

"Come on. Move it!"

"I can't. I could never do it. I don't understand how it works."

"You're going to have to learn. Keep damn trying," Dean snarled.

He yanked a chair back and sat down opposite the kid, staring at him and willing him to do it. It had already taken too long, and they hadn't even made any progress yet. Every second Jack wasted, was a second Sam could be suffering.

Mary stood behind him and laid her hands on his shoulders, squeezing them gently. Dean tried to take comfort from the touch, but failed. Until Sam was back, he didn't think he would find comfort in anything.

* * *

Michael was angry. Sam could see it in the flush of his cheeks and the tightness of his jaw. He wasn't getting what he wanted from Sam, a fight, and it seemed he was tired of the endless circle of 'killing' Sam and watching him heal again. He was keeping good control of his anger so far though, especially for someone as insane as he was.

Sam remembered that Michael had always been more controlled in the Cage, calm in the face of Lucifer's rage. When they had first arrived in the Cage, Lucifer had been enraged, beating against the bars and shouting. It had taken a month for him to calm enough to pay more than passing attention to Sam and Adam. That had been the easiest month of the Cage, as it had only been Michael hurting him then, and it had been interspersed with breaks during which Adam's torture would commence. It was as good as it got for them, as when Lucifer finished his tantrum, he and Michael would tag-team them, so they were almost always hurting.

Sam had just been healed and Michael was making passes of the Cage, running his blade over the bars again. Sam was still on the floor, leaning against the bars where he'd been eviscerated. His mind was drifting to Dean. Was he okay? Had Jack been able to maintain the rift for Dean to return through or had the shock of seeing Sam ripped away broken his concentration? Had Sam trapped Dean in that place by default? He was sure he had. He had wanted to be the one to go, he had been sure he could find her, but Dean had gone in his place. Of course he had. It was Dean—he wouldn't let Sam put himself in danger when there was an option for him to take the risk in his place—and now he was trapped in that nightmare world with Lucifer, too.

Michael came to a stop in front of him. "Why won't you fight, Lucifer?"

Sam shook his head, almost too tired to bother making the argument he had a hundred times before. "I am not Lucifer. Lucifer is trapped somewhere else. I am Sam."

He sighed. "Why do you continue to lie to me when we both know the truth?"

Sam pushed himself up a little higher and said, "I'm not lying. Your brother is somewhere else now. There was a rift into another world, and Lucifer was trapped there."

"No," Michael said firmly. "There is no one that can open a rift like that but God, and He would not do that. He sent you to me and is now waiting until I succeed and break you. Only then will He return and reward the faithful."

"It was Lucifer's son," Sam said. "That's how I am here, too. It wasn't God. It was Jack. He didn't mean to, but he opened it and you dragged me back."

Michael's lip curled in disgust. "A nephilim, Lucifer? What possessed you to create an abomination like that? And to lie with a human, to indulge their base desires? Does your vessel still have control of you?"

Sam sighed tiredly. "I'm not Lucifer."

"Don't lie!" Michael spat.

Sam started to speak, but Michael held up a hand to silence him as he pressed the other to his ear as if blocking out sound. He looked concentrated for a moment and then he said, "Yes. I see. Thank you." He lowered his hand and fixed his eyes on Sam. "Raphael confirmed it. You did create a nephilim."

Sam's jaw dropped. "Raphael?"

He already knew Michael was insane, but this was a whole new level of crazy. Raphael was dead, exploded into atoms by Castiel, and the archangels had never been able to hear angel radio in the Cage. Michael was hearing voices now, too.

"Yes, Brother, Raphael. The last of the faithful first children left since you murdered Gabriel. He told me you have a son."

Sam closed his eyes. Being trapped in the Cage again was a kind of torture in and of itself, but to be trapped with an insane archangel who believed he was Lucifer and that he had to break him… How was Sam supposed to deal with this? His only hope was that Jack somehow found him and managed to get him back. And then they could work together to get Dean and Mary home, too. But it occurred to him now that would possibly be the worst case for the world itself, as Michael would surely escape, too. The last thing the world needed was a crazy archangel running around.

Sam wasn't sure what he really wanted. He couldn't bear the thought of staying in this place forever, being killed over and over, but he couldn't let himself be the reason the world was doomed again. Selfishly, he wanted to be free, though in his compassionate mind he knew that would probably be a tragedy.

The best he could hope for was that he would lose his mind and stop suffering with each 'death'.

* * *

Jack was tired, and he was making it very obvious. Dean was tired, too, as was Mary. They had slept in shifts the past few days, and neither of them had managed much actual decent rest.

Dean hadn't asked about them, but he knew his mom was having nightmares. He was as well. His were of what Jack had shown him of Sam being taken. In his dreams, he was there, with them, and he was reaching for Sam, ready to drag him back and save him, but each time Sam was ripped away from him. He woke panting each time, wondering what was happening to Sam wherever he was and whether he knew Dean was coming for him. For all Sam knew, he had been trapped in the other world the same way he was. He could be in a place of terror with no hope at all.

They had to get him back.

Jack was staring at the pencil with concentration, and Dean could see in his eyes that he was as wrecked as them, but he had no right to feel like that. He was the one that had done this, and he could damn well fix it.

After a long moment of silence, he swiped a hand across the table and knocked the pencil onto the floor. "I can't do this!"

"You can," Mary said. "You just have to keep trying."

"Sam said I didn't have to," he said sullenly, sounding very much like the teenager he appeared to be.

Dean spoke through his teeth. "And then he got sucked into your hellhole and you let the door close." He took another pencil from the mug and slapped it down in front of him. "Try again!"

"I can't!"

Dean leapt out of his chair as his fury rose. It was like Jack didn't even care. He said he was upset that Sam was gone, and Dean had made it clear Sam was on his side, helping him instead of using him, but he was still being lazy and weak about it.

"You can!" he bellowed, his throat burning. "You did this to him, so you can damn well fix it, understand?"

Jack leapt to his feet to and he seemed to emanate power. Dean didn't quail in the face of it; he thought this was what he finally needed from the kid, some actual emotion.

"I can't!" he shouted. "I have tried. I have done everything I can think to do. You're not helping. You're shouting at me but you're not telling me _how_ to do it. You have no more idea than I do." He breathed hard.

"Sam was helping you…" Dean started angrily.

"I know! And I am trying to help him, but I don't know how. I don't want to be here with you two. You have said you will kill me when you find a way, and she obviously hates me for what I did to her son. But I am still here. I'm pretty sure you can't stop me leaving, but I've stayed to try to get Sam back."

Dean glared at him. He would find a way to keep him here if he tried to leave. There was no way they were letting Sam's only chance walk away.

"You're not going anywhere until you get him back," he growled. "So move the damn pencil!"

"How?" Jack shouted. "I don't understand how to do it." He pointed a finger at the pencils. "It just won't–" The mug flew across the room, crashed into the wall and broke.

Dean stared at the pencils strewn of the floor, his heart racing. He _had_ done it. Finally, he had done something useful. They just had to… what? What did they do?

I did it," Jack breathed.

It dawned on Dean that they didn't know what happened next. They had followed Sam's plan because he was the smart one, but what had he been planning to do next? How could Jack being able to throw pencils help? It was tiny compared to what they needed from him. How were they supposed to go from that to opening rifts? He had just breathed out a hole last time he was pissed. This time he had thrown a bunch of pencils. That wasn't going to help anyone.

His heart sank. They were no closer to getting Sam back now that they had been the minute he was snatched away. The only thing they had gained was Jack having a party trick.

"You're useless," he said bitterly.

"But I did it," he said, confused.

"Yeah, so do it again and make it a door."

Jack looked like he was actually trying. His brow creased and his lips pressed into a thin line. It lasted a minute before he breathed out and shook his head. "I can't."

"Exactly." Dean turned and walked away.

"Dean…" Mary said gently behind him.

He shook his head. "I need a minute."

He walked out of the room and along the hall, and then paused when he heard Jack's voice.

"He hates me."

Mary sighed. "Dean gets things mixed up in his head sometimes; he turns fear and sadness into anger. You came along at the same moment he lost Castiel and me. He has to blame someone, and this time it's you."

Dean scowled. He didn't have some deficit. He blamed Jack because it _was_ his fault. He hated him because he was the son of the damn devil. He was the evilest bastard out there right now. He'd be insane if he didn't hate him.

"But I trapped Sam," Jack said.

"You did," she agreed. "But it wasn't your fault."

"You don't hate me?"

"No. I pity you. You have been thrown into this world and you're confused and scared. I was the same when I was brought back. I made some bad choices because of it, trusted the wrong people. I let my boys down."

Dean frowned as he listened, finding it hard to believe that it was Jack Mary had chosen to open up to about this. What had he done to earn her trust?

"I'm relying on you to get Sam back," she said. "Hating you while needing you so desperately seems counterproductive. I don't think you'll be able to do your best if you feel like you're being attacked all the time, so I have let go of what you did. I'm trusting you now because I can't do this for my son, so I need you to."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. She was talking to him like he really was a human kid. Didn't she see the creature he was? Or was this just bullshit to get him on her side and working for them? He hoped it was. He hated that he had to rely on Jack, and he truly would rather kill him, but he was their only chance—if they could get him to do more than toss pencils around that was.

"Thank you, Mary," Jack said.

He could hear the smile in her voice as she replied. "Thank you for what you're doing. I'm going to find Dean. I need to talk to him. Maybe you should rest a while. Be ready for when we come back at it." There was the scrape of a chair and Dean quickly rushed up the hall and turned the corner led to the library. He was not fast enough though, as he heard Mary call his name behind him.

He went straight to the liquor and poured himself a glass of whiskey as Mary came into the room.

"You heard us then?" she asked.

Dean nodded. "I heard plenty."

"I know what you're thinking, Dean, but I meant what I said. He's our only hope for Sam, and making him live in fear isn't going to help our cause. He has to…"

Dean held up a hand. "I don't want to hear it."

"You need to," she said.

Before Dean could answer, there was a loud knock at the heavy front door.

"Are you expecting someone?" she asked.

"No. Everyone we know is dead or trapped right now."

"Jody?"

He shook his head. "She would call if she was coming." He grabbed his gun from the table and held it tightly as he walked through the map room and up the stairs. Mary followed him and she drew her own gun as Dean unbolted the door and eased it open.

His mouth dropped open as he saw the person outside.

"Cas?" he whispered.

"Hello, Dean."

* * *

 **So… Castiel is back too! Two down, one to go. If we could just get Sam back it'd be party time in the bunker.**

 **If you love Jack as I do, the Dean scenes have to be pretty tough to read right now. I'm sorry. It will get better before the end, I promise. Dean's just dealing with a lot right now.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	5. Chapter 4

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing this for me and Gredelina1 for helping and supporting.**

 **Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I love hearing your thoughts on the story.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Four**_

Castiel opened his eyes to bright sunlight above him. He was lying in long grass that tickled his cheeks. He sat up and looked around. He was behind the house he and Kelly had been made their home while waiting for the baby's arrival.

He stood slowly as he tried to make sense of what had happened to him. He remembered the pain, a white-hot burn searing through his chest as he was stabbed, bringing irresistible lethargy. Then he was waking up again. There was nothing else there, or was there? He felt like he was missing something, a piece of the puzzle. Had there been something else? He tried to remember, but all he could think of was the pain. It was as if his mind was intentionally blocking what else might be there. It frustrated him, and he searched his mind further, but each time he came at the vague place, he felt a phantom pain again. He concentrated on what else he knew, deciding to come back to the black spot later.

There was no question of what had happened to him. He had felt that lethargy before and knew what it meant; he had been killed. The fact he was familiar with the sensation didn't make it any easier to deal with. It seemed each death chipped away a little more of him, making him feel different. He had no time to indulge in self-pitying thoughts though. He had more important things to do.

He wondered how long he had been gone. It was day now, and it had been night when he died. Was it a short enough time for Sam and Dean to still be there? Was Kelly? He had read much about childbirth and knew it could take a long time. Was it possible he was still in time to help her and the baby?

He walked around the house, hoping to see the black sheen and chrome of the Impala, but it was not there. Instead, there was a rectangle of scorched grass and evidence that there had been a large fire there. A pyre. His own? However long it had been, it was long enough for someone to have been burned and the fire to die, the ashes cool, and Sam and Dean leave. They would not have moved Kelly, so it was clearly too late for her. Poor Kelly. She had done everything to bring her child into the world and it had taken her life. And she had known it. Had she held onto her bravery until the end? He hoped so. She had been very strong.

Disappointed, he turned back to the house. It was perfectly silent, but he went in anyway. He walked to the room that they had prepared as the nursery, and he saw the stacked diapers he'd bought. There was no other sign of the baby though. He was gone, too. Was he with Sam and Dean?

If it was Lucifer that had killed him as he suspected from the length of the blade that had pierced him, did he have the child? Castiel hoped with all his heart that he didn't. Jack had been destined to be good, Castiel had seen that when Jack had allowed him a glimpse into what he could do, but he would suffer if Lucifer had him. The Devil would do anything to corrupt him and mold him to what he wanted. How strong would Jack be to resist that? Who was raising him now that Dagon was dead? Lucifer would surely not occupy himself with the baby's human needs. Whose care was Jack under now?

He trailed his fingers along the crib Kelly had intended for Jack and sighed sadly. Everything they had planned and all their hopes were dashed if Lucifer had won. Castiel had to hope that Sam and Dean had survived, managed to escape in the uncanny way they had. The absence of the Impala gave credence to that theory, but he wasn't sure. If he was back, it added hope, as it must have been them that had managed to bring him back with God having disappeared again. Had one of them made a deal for him? He needed to know they were safe and the truth of his return.

He walked out of the house and, casting the remains of the pyre a glance, he set off along the track that would lead him to the road.

He needed a car.

* * *

It took Castiel almost two days to reach Kansas as he had trouble finding a car to steal in the small town he and Kelly had hidden in. As he had driven, his anxiety for the people he cared about had grown. He had no idea what he was going to find at the bunker, possibly nothing. Lucifer knew about the place, so if he was in search of Sam and Dean, they could not use it as a hiding place. If they hadn't, he didn't know how he would find them.

There was no sign of life from outside, not that he had expected any. The bunker was built underground and there was no light to escape aboveground. He climbed out of the car he had made the journey in and walked down the short flight of steps that led to the innocuous looking door. He took a breath and knocked.

As he heard the bolts disengage, it crossed his mind that it could be Lucifer inside. He would possibly enjoy taking the Winchesters' space as his own. If it was, Castiel would be trapped at once. Having killed him twice already, Lucifer would surely not hesitate before killing him again.

The door opened and Castiel breathed a deep sigh of relief. It was Dean. He looked almost ill, his color grey and there was stress in his shadowed eyes, but he was alive. Lucifer hadn't gotten to them yet.

His lips parted with shock as he caught sight of Castiel and his eyes widened. "Cas?" he whispered.

Castiel smiled. Stressed and tired as he may be, there was obvious pleasure in Dean along with his shock. "Hello, Dean."

Dean shook his head briskly, as if to clear it, and then he looked at Castiel again.

"It's really you?"

Castiel nodded. "It's me."

"How?"

"I don't know," he said.

It clearly hadn't been Dean that had made a deal to bring him back, as his shock was genuine, so it must have been Sam. Castiel would not want to upset either of them, so he would wait until he was alone with the younger hunter to ask about it.

The pyre made sense now, too. If Dean had been planning to make the deal, he would never have let Sam burn him. On the other hand, if it had been Sam, he would have let Dean do what he pleased, knowing that Castiel didn't technically need a body to be resurrected as he had come back without before.

"May I come in?"

Dean stepped back without and word, and Castiel entered. Mary Winchester was standing just behind the door, a gun gripped in her hand. She looked stunned too, but she smiled when she saw him, and Castiel thought he saw a change come into her eyes which were shadowed just like her son's.

"Hello, Mary."

"Castiel," she said with relief.

Castiel walked down the stairs, looking around for a sign of his other friend. Sam's laptop was on the table and there was a book beside it and a mug, but the smear of coffee inside had dried to the china; it was clearly old. They usually kept house a little better than that, and the first stirrings of unease began in his stomach. They had either been too pressured to do anything like clean up after themselves, which would make sense if they were trying to deal with Lucifer, or it could mean something more ominous.

Dean and Mary came down the stairs, both looking tense again, as if the relief of Castiel's return had already been eclipsed by other troubles.

Dean stopped and looked at the laptop a moment, his eyes tight, and then he walked past into the library. Castiel hoped to see Sam there, and his lips curled into a smile at the thought, but it was empty. Castiel braced himself and asked the question he needed to be answered.

"Where is Sam?"

In the instant he asked, he hoped to be told his friend was there but resting. Perhaps he had been hurt somehow and that was why they were so obviously stressed. Without Castiel there to heal, he could be in trouble. That would be remedied with Castiel's return. He could take care of him. He clung to that idea as he could do something about it.

"He's gone," Dean said in a dead voice.

Castiel's heart sank. The happiness he felt at his return and relief at seeing Dean and Mary seeped out of him. "Gone where?"

"We don't know," Mary said carefully.

Castiel frowned. "He left?"

"No, he was stolen," Dean said bitterly.

"Lucifer?" Castiel could think of no reason Lucifer would take Sam but to hurt him. He had no need of Sam as a vessel, as he had somehow managed to sustain the Nick vessel this time. He would surely like to take Sam as revenge for his interference and previous triumph though. Because of Sam, Lucifer had been returned to the Cage. Only by Castiel's ill-informed choice to let himself be a vessel had Lucifer been freed again to wreak havoc. Had Castiel's mistake befallen Sam again? Was he suffering because of him?

"Not this time," Dean said dully.

He seemed unable to give more information, so Castiel turned to Mary for an explanation. She nodded slowly and seemed to gird himself to speak. "There was another rift," she said. "Actually, there were two. One opened onto the world you visited before, the apocalyptic world, where I was trapped."

"You were trapped?" Castiel asked.

"Yes, after you… died… I attacked Lucifer, trying to drive him back, and I succeeded, but he dragged me through, too. I was trapped back there with him until Dean saved me."

"Sammy," Dean said quietly, his eyes fixed on the opposite wall. "It was down to Sam, not me."

Mary shook her head. "It was you both. But I was trapped, and when Dean came to rescue me, another rift opened, and Sam was dragged into that one. We think it was an angel that did it, as Dean recognized grace. We don't know where he is or what's happening to him. We don't even know if he's still…"

"He has to be alive," Dean said. "He has to. He survived Lucifer and Michael for almost two centuries. He can handle whoever it was this time, too."

That wasn't technically true though. Sam had 'survived' merely by virtue of the fact that he was already dead in the Cage. Only when Castiel had saved him and breathed life back into him had he actually lived again. He had not come out unscathed. His mind had been almost completely broken by what happened to him, a fact he'd had a brief reprieve from when Death had returned his soul and created the wall. It was Castiel that had ruined that, and Sam had suffered for it.

Mary nodded. "Yes, he's alive, but we don't know where."

"How did you open a rift?" Castiel asked. He understood the why—if Mary was trapped, Sam and Dean would have been relentless in their mission to save her—but the how was impossible to understand. It had taken a Nephilim to do it before.

"We didn't," Dean said, turning burning eyes on Castiel. "Your damn kid did."

"I don't have a…" Castiel trailed off. "It was Jack?"

"Yes," Mary said. "He didn't mean to. It was an accident, but he opened them both."

"He didn't mean to?" Dean scoffed. "I'm really doubting that."

"How though?" Castiel asked. "He cannot have that kind of control already."

"Exactly," Mary said. "He doesn't have control. That's why he can't do it again. I am sure he didn't mean to do it."

Dean walked away and went to the cabinet in the corner where there was a drinks tray arranged. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and took a long drink before lowering it. "We've been trying to get him to do it again, but so far all he's managed to do is throw a mug of pencils. We're not expecting another breakthrough anytime soon."

Castiel was confused. How were they expecting anything from Jack? Surely, he wasn't able to control the ability to create a rift. He was far too inexperienced, and even more importantly, young. Castiel thought he was missing something vital here.

"Jack is here?" he asked.

Mary nodded. "In his room."

They had left him alone? He expected it from Dean, as he was dealing with the loss of his brother and obvious fury at the way he had been lost, but he though Mary, as a mother, would have more care.

"I need to see him," he said.

Dean raised his glass in a toast. "Have at it. He's halfway the second hall. See if you can make the little bastard do something useful for us this time."

Mary shook her head and walked to Dean. She laid her hand on his arm, and Castiel saw the first familiar signs of Dean's carefully controlled façade crumbling. He knew he would not want another witness to it, and needing to see Jack, Castiel nodded to him once and left the room.

He walked through the bunker to the living quarters and along to the second hall. He felt the power before he reached the door. It was like heat, and it made a knot of unease settle in his chest. It was an angel's natural response to being close to danger. He had no fear though. Despite what had happened and what Dean obviously felt, he knew Jack wouldn't hurt him, as he had seen his pure heart before.

He continued along the hall, walking into the heat and then hesitated outside the door. There was a quiet moan inside, a strange sound for a baby, and Castiel pushed open the door and entered. His eyes scanned the room for a crib of some sort, but all there was a bed, a table in the center with a notepad on it, and a young man crouched against the wall.

The man straightened, he bore a look of fear that quickly transformed into a smile. In his hands were pieces of white china that he dropped as his eyes roved Castiel. Castiel felt the urge to draw his blade, but he resisted, knowing on some base level that he was not in danger. He thought he knew who this man was, though how he wasn't sure.

"Castiel?" he asked hopefully.

"Jack?" Castiel questioned.

He nodded. "Yes! You came! I hoped you would. My mother said you would be there for me, and I felt your strength when I touched your mind. I thought you would find a way, and you did. You came back!"

"How are you… this?" he gestured him up and down.

"It wasn't safe for me to be a child," Jack said. "My mother told me I'd need to be strong, I made myself big." He breathed shakily. "I have been waiting for you. Sam didn't think you were coming back. He told me how to say goodbye. But you're here."

Castiel walked deeper into the room. It seemed laughable to him now that he had been expecting to raise a child in Kelly's place. Of course it was not safe for Jack to be a baby. He needed to be able to defend himself, and he was strong enough to make himself any age he wished.

Castiel grappled for something to say. He had anticipated time of caring for Jack and building a bond with him, but now he was dealing with him as young man, and he wasn't quite sure what to do or say. "How are you?" he asked.

Jack smiled at the question. "I'm okay. I am happy now you're here. I…" He shook his head and his smile faded. "Castiel, my mother said you would be my father, and fathers help, right? Like Sam tried to do for me, and needed me to do for him?"

Castiel nodded. "I will help you however I can, Jack."

Jack looked sad. "I have done something terrible. I trapped Sam, and I need your help to get him back. I have tried, they wanted me to move the pencil, but I couldn't until today and I couldn't control it. I just made it happen because I was angry. I need to learn how to fix it. Dean wants to kill me, and I think he will if I don't do it soon."

"Dean wants to kill you!"

"Yes," Jack said. "Unless I do this soon, I think he will find a way. He said he would. He's so angry with me."

Castiel understood Dean's fear and anger, but to threaten to kill Jack was cruel. It was obviously a good motivation for him to work, but Castiel had learned in his time as a leader of angels that guiding instead of threatening was more productive. Jack clearly wanted to help them, so why threaten him?

"He didn't mean it," Castiel said. "Dean doesn't do well when he is parted from Sam. It makes him lash out."

Jack shook his head. "He said he would kill me _before_ I trapped Sam. He's just more determined now that he's really angry."

Castiel closed his eyes and pushed down his anger so as not to scare Jack. He would speak to Dean about that later. He had to help Jack and Sam now.

He sat down at the table and gestured Jack to join him. Jack hurriedly obeyed and looked hopefully at Castiel.

"I will help you," he promised. "But I need to know what has happened first. Tell me everything you have done since you were born, and we will find a way together."

Jack looked infinitely relieved as he opened his mouth and began to speak. "I remember seeing my mother on the bed…"

* * *

 **So… Castiel is back and Jack finally has a real ally—Mary tried, I know, but Castiel will actually love him, too. Things should be a little easier for them all now.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	6. Chapter 5

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for fixing all my mistakes in fic and Gredelia1 for helping and supporting. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Five**_

Dean knew he should be happy. Castiel was back and that was a miracle, but he couldn't feel it properly. It was as if he had been numbed to every happy emotion, leaving him with nothing but the negative parts of life to feel. Seeing him had been incredible, a stomach jolting shock that he hardly dared believe, but there was none of the happiness he had felt the other times his friend had returned after being lost.

There was a part of him that wished it had been Sam at the door. If there was to be a miracle, why couldn't it be him instead? He knew that was unfair and he should feel different, Castiel was his best friend, but Dean had accepted his death, he was living with it, albeit with difficulty. He could not live with Sam's absence; he had proved that many times over the years. He had sold his soul for Sam. He had tricked Sam into letting an angel in to save him. He had killed himself with an overdose when he believed Sam was dead so that he could deal with Billie. The only time he had managed something vaguely resembling a life without Sam was when he was in the Cage, and that had only been because he promised Sam he would. He had dragged himself through each day, sometimes even finding happiness with Lisa and Ben, but all the time he had been searching for a way to bring Sam back, too. He just couldn't do life without his brother. He didn't know how.

He was hanging on by the tips his fingers now because there was the smallest hope they could get him back. As long as he had that, he could keep going. He had to stay strong and find a way to get Jack to fix his screwup. He still didn't know how Sam had planned to develop telekinesis into something useful, but maybe now that Castiel was back, they'd make some progress. He had a link to Jack, whatever it was, and hopefully he could put that to use. Castiel had obviously thought it was enough to betray them again to help Kelly escape, so it had to be good for something.

He refreshed his drink and sat down again beside Mary. He glanced at the ornamental clock on the shelf and realized Castiel had been gone a long time. He wondered what he was doing with the kid.

"He's been gone a while. Think he's still alive?" he asked belligerently.

"I'm sure he is," Mary said.

Dean shrugged. "He could have shoved Cas through another rift."

"Dean…" she said consolingly. "I know Jack did something terrible, but he didn't mean to. I meant what I said to him. I don't blame him and I am relying on him. You have to let it go and trust him."

Dean scowled at her. "Let Sam go?"

"No!" she said, stricken. "I didn't mean that. I would never say that. I could never give up on him either. I just mean that you have to let go of your anger at Jack and give him a chance. He can't help who his father is. He could be good."

She didn't understand. If Dean didn't have his anger, he would have nothing. Letting go of that would be letting go of himself. He needed it for strength. What would he be if he felt nothing at all?

"And he might not," he said. "The kid could've had another tantrum. I think we should check to see if Cas is still here."

There was movement at the door and Castiel entered. "There is no need," he said solemnly. "I am still here, and I am fine."

Dean shrugged. "Can't blame me for going with the odds."

Castiel came deeper into the room and then turned back and gestured with his hand. "It's okay. Come in."

Jack came slowly into the room and came to a stop beside Castiel. He looked nervously at Dean and then smiled slightly as he looked at Mary. That was awesome, Dean thought. He had her under his thrall just like he apparently had Castiel and he'd definitely had Sam. Dean was alone in being free thinking now.

Castiel fixed his eyes on Dean and said, "Jack said you have kept him in his room since Sam was taken."

Dean shrugged. "And?"

Castiel frowned. "And it was unkind."

Seriously? Unkind? He was supposed to be kind to Satan's son? When had this become his life?

He wished he was back on the road with Sam, taking cases before any of this crap happened. Though had their lives ever been truly free of crap? He thought about it. Even when they started out again, after Sam left Stanford and they were searching for John, things hadn't been good. Sam had been grieving for Jessica and they'd been worried about their dad. Then they'd lost John and were hunting Azazel. Then there was the deal and Lilith and the damn apocalypse. It went on and on, an unending cycle of crap for them to swim through. It seemed to him that the best time they'd had was when Sam was back from the Cage, re-souled and clear of Hell in his head, and there had been maybe a day during which they were hunting Dragons and just being happy together. Then Eve had been raised and it had all gone to shit once again. His life had sucked for so long, it was now a normal state of being. At least until now he'd had Sam with him to cushion the blows.

"Jack is not an animal," Castiel said. "He cannot be trapped like that. He's is not a hunt you have to take or a monster to fight. He is a person."

"That's a matter of opinion," Dean said.

Mary cast him a sharp look and he ignored it. Jack took a step back and Castiel laid a hand on his arm to stop him from retreating further. He looked at him and some silent communication seemed to pass between them. Jack nodded and looked Dean in the eye. So, he thought he had a little backup now that he'd fooled Castiel. Dean didn't care if the whole world fell in love with him; he knew the truth of what he was, and he would not forget it.

"He _is_ a person and he will be treated as one," Castiel said. "If you cannot do that, we will leave."

Dean had been outwardly ignoring Castiel, starting into the depths of his tumbler of whiskey, but at that his head snapped up. "What?"

"You heard me," Castiel said. "He has told me everything that has happened. I have heard what Sam has done for him and what you said to him: the threats you made. I understand it in part, as once again you have suffered, but Dean, not all of it is excusable. You have mistreated the only person here that has a chance of bringing Sam back. You need Jack's help, and instead of asking and supporting, you have accused and demanded. What you have done has hurt more than Jack; it has hurt Sam, too."

Dean leapt to his feet, sending the chair crashing back onto the floor. "Wait one damn minute! He doesn't know shit about me and Sam. He heard an argument, that's all. I was pissed, and Sam would understand that."

"Sam would understand your argument," Castiel agreed. "He has had years to learn your character and how you lash out at the wrong people. Jack has not."

Dean bristled. The wrong people? Jack was not the wrong person. It was an actual fact that he had done this to them, not just Dean's feelings. He had opened the rift. He had bewitched Castiel—which was obviously still in full effect—and he had gotten Sam taken away. Castiel should know that. Whatever the kid had done to him was still skewing his mind in his favor.

"And that is not what I meant anyway," Castiel went on. "By putting Jack under this pressure, you have made things harder."

"Pressure!" Dean pointed a finger accusingly. "You may have forgotten, but he is not your kid, Cas—despite what his poor mother thought. He is Lucifer's. He isn't even really a kid. He just looks like one. He's…" He shook his head. "You know what, I'm not even sure what he is anymore. But he's sure as hell not human. I don't care how hard things are for him; it's got to be a thousand times harder for Sam—wherever he is! And it's harder for us, too, without Sam."

"Exactly!" Castiel said. "It's been harder without Sam for _all of you_. Sam was the only one that treated Jack with care. The way you've been treating him has slowed this whole process down. Jack's abilities come from the angel part of him, and angels work better in calm. We're created to be soldiers, but our home is Heaven, the place of ultimate peace. We learn our craft there and only learn to manage it with the added stresses on Earth later. Jack has had none of that training. He has been grappling to find a way to help while you have been piling pressure on him and shouting. You, Dean, have hurt Sam's cause more than anyone because you couldn't be calm."

Dean stepped forward, forgetting for a moment that Castiel was an angel that had Satan Junior's protection. He just wanted to attack.

Mary stepped in front of him and laid a hand on his chest. "Calm down!" she ordered.

The tone might have worked when he was four and throwing a tantrum because she'd forgotten to cut the crusts off his PB&J, but he was a grown man now and he was pissed.

"Look at yourself," Castiel said. "I know you want to help Sam; I do, too, but we have to work together to make it happen. Jack needs help that only we can give by creating the right space for him to learn."

Dean closed his eyes and summoned patience. If he wasn't sure Jack would disappear and they'd never get Sam back, he'd be happy to see the back of him _and_ this enthralled Castiel.

Did Castiel expect him to be able to stow what the little bastard had done and create some shiny happy bullshit place for him to learn?

"I'm sorry I haven't created the right 'space'," Dean snapped. "But I'm trying to deal with the fact your little buddy stuffed my brother into some hellhole with an angel!"

"I know that," Jack said quietly. "I didn't mean to."

"We know, Jack," Mary said.

Dean rolled his eyes. This was just perfect. The little shit had them all on side now. Was it some kind of monster nephilim thing he had going on? Was he mind-fucking them somehow? If so, why wasn't it working on Dean?

"He knows what he has done," Castiel said. "But your reaction is scaring him enough to block him. He's afraid to use his powers."

Dean's anger rose. "You're scared? So you're not even trying? Do you think Sam isn't scared too? Don't you think he's clinging to the hope that you'll actually come though and help _him_! Don't you think he needs you? Dammit!"

Jack quailed back from his anger. It was ridiculous. He had been raging at Dean in return an hour ago, and now he was playing it like he was scared of him. No wonder Castiel had his head screwed by him; he was a brilliant actor.

"I am trying," he said quietly. "I just don't want to hurt anyone else."

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Is that a threat?"

"No," Castiel said firmly. "It's a fact. Jack cannot control his abilities yet; he has not been trained, and accidents happen when you are uncontrolled. That is how Sam was lost in the first place. We have to keep things calm for him."

Dean turned away. Sure. He'd keep things calm. That would be so easy with Jack running around as a constant reminder of his crimes. It should be no problem to deal with that.

"You have to find a way to work with us," Castiel said to his back. "I don't expect you to like Jack, but you must stop showing such anger towards him. If you cannot be around him without making this situation worse, stay away. I mean what I will say: I will take him away."

Dean drew a sharp breath. If Jack wasn't there, they wouldn't know how much effort he was putting into saving Sam; they wouldn't know if he was trying at all. The longer it took, the longer Sam would suffer. They had to keep him here, so Dean had to find a way to tolerate him.

He turned back to Castiel, studiously ignoring Jack. "Okay. I get it. You can quit with the threats. I'll give him a break. But you've got to make sure he's doing everything he can to get Sam back as fast as he can."

Castiel looked annoyed. "Do you really think I would do anything less?"

"No," Dean lied. "I'm sorry." The truth was that this new, enthralled Castiel might not prioritize Sam as highly as he had before the kid had gotten hold of him. Even before Jack, Castiel hadn't always made the right choices for them. He'd busted Sam's wall after all.

Castiel didn't see the truth in his eyes. He nodded and smiled slightly. "Okay. If you will have a seat, I can explain what we are going to do next."

Mary obediently sat down again, and looked pointedly at Dean. With a sigh, he sat beside her and picked up his glass again.

Castiel led Jack over and pulled out a seat for him—like the kid didn't know how—and they sat opposite.

Dean sipped his drink and said, "So, what's it going to take to get Sam back?"

Castiel glanced at Jack and said, "All angelic power resides within him. We need Jack to conquer one ability and then build from there. He said Sam was attempting to train his telekinesis by moving things, and you've continued it."

"Yes," Mary said. "When he got angry, he threw the pencils across the room."

"Good," Castiel said. "The power is there. It just needs to be mastered. Sam was on the right track with what he was doing. If you control a smaller power, it aids you to take control of the next."

"Course he was right," Dean said quietly. "He's a damn genius."

Mary smiled fondly and nodded.

"So Jack has to master that before developing the next," Castiel said.

"What is the next?" Mary asked.

"Telepathy. If Jack can reach out, he might be able to connect with Sam. If we know where he is, it should help us nail down a location to open the door to when we're at that point."

"You can read minds?" Mary asked.

"Angels can read each other's minds when allowed," Castiel said. "It's an extension of angel radio. Do you remember the cupid we met once, Dean?"

Dean nodded. The overweight and naked hugger had asked Castiel to read his mind to see he was innocent. "He let you?" he asked.

"Yes. For an angel, that power is of little use apart from with other friendly angels to share things with stealth, and I would not be able to reach Sam, but Jack is much more powerful than I am. I think he could reach for and communicate with Sam."

"And that will help you find him?" Mary asked hopefully.

"Yes. Jack's rifts are almost like our ability to time travel. We have to concentrate on where and when we want to be, and Jack will need to do the same."

"So it's moving crap, mind reading, and then getting Sammy back?" Dean asked.

"In essence, yes, but it will not be as easy as it sounds. What we will do is incredibly dangerous. We have no idea what we'll be opening to when he locate him."

"So?" Dean asked.

"So, anything could slip through with him."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Are you saying we shouldn't do it?"

"No," Castiel said calmly. "You know I will do this for Sam. I have proven that to you in the past when I went to the Cage. I just thought it warranted discussion."

Dean shrugged. "We get Sam back and we'll deal with anything that comes with him after. As long as we're together, we can handle it. Discussion over. Now get to work."

Jack nodded but Castiel held up a hand. "There are other things we need to do first. Jack needs rest and food. You haven't given him either since Sam was taken."

Mary looked stricken. "I didn't even think. I'm sorry, Jack."

"It's okay," he said, smiling at her. "I understand things changed for you when Sam was gone. I can exist without food, it just it hurts a little, and I don't need to sleep much."

Dean rolled his eyes. Of course he could get by without. He was half-angel.

Mary looked sad. "You were in pain? You should have said something,"

Jack's eyes darted to Dean, and he looked a little scared.

Sure, make Dean the asshole here. Jack wasn't too scared to throw pencils around and shout, but he was too scared to say he needed a snack. That was bullshit.

"Would you if you were in fear for your life?" Castiel asked.

"No," Mary said. "I'm sorry, Jack. We will take better care of you now. You have to tell us what you need. Right, Dean?"

Dean pasted on a smile that hurt his face. "Sure. We'll take care of you."

He reminded himself that by taking care of Jack they were speeding Sam's return, and that was what mattered.

He would tolerate the kid until Sam was back, and then all bets were off. That was all he could do.

* * *

 **So… Things are moving on now. Castiel has a plan and Jack will get a nap and snack at last ;-)**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	7. Chapter 6

**Thank you so much Jenoremy for sharing your crazy beta skills. Thank you Gredelina1 for helping and supporting. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.  
**

 **This chapter is for sammygirl17 in thanks for the lovely chat that came at the perfect time to remind me why I write.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Six**_

"Once more if you can," Castiel said gently.

Jack narrowed his eyes at the book, and it flew from the table into his waiting hand.

Castiel smiled widely. "Well done, Jack! That's it!"

Jack ducked his head with a smile.

He was always reticent in the face of praise. Castiel didn't know if it was because of the things Jack had been through, or the things he had heard from Dean before he had come back, but he was trying to break the habit. Jack deserved praise, and he needed to understand how much he was achieving now. He should know how much he was appreciated.

Jack turned the book over in his hand and said, "Do you want me to do it again?"

"Do _you_ want to?" Castiel asked.

Jack hesitated, considering his answer. That was something else Castiel had noticed; Jack seemed to lack confidence in his decisions. He always tried to give the response he thought people wanted instead of what he felt. It was another goal of his as he worked with Jack, to give him more confidence and freedom.

"I think I do," he said carefully.

"Then go ahead."

Jack held the book on the flat of his palm and fixed his eyes on it. It rose a few inches into the air and hovered there, and then floated over to the table and landed perfectly in the center.

Jack smiled. "That's it? That's what I am supposed to do?"

"That is exactly it," Castiel said.

"And this will get Sam back?"

"Not this exactly, but the mental muscles you are building, the control you are gaining, are going to help us, yes."

"So I should keep trying?"

"Maybe later. You should eat and rest. You have been working almost all night."

"I couldn't settle," Jack said "We all need this to work. When I'm not doing it, I feel like I'm letting you down."

"Is that what you feel or what you think Dean feels?"

"I _know_ that's what Dean feels, he doesn't hide it, but I feel it, too. Sam needs me to get him back. When I do rest, I think about him. I can't leave him wherever he is just because I'm tired."

Jack reminded Castiel of Sam. He wondered if it was a part of his own nature or the influence Sam had on him before he had been lost, seeing his determination to get Mary back. Sam had been a person that got something in his head, a slight or mission, and he took it on like a dog with a bone. That determination had almost doomed the world with Lilith, but it had also saved it with Lucifer. It had saved Dean from the Mark, even though that had also almost come at a terrible price. Jack was the same. Though he had trapped Sam, a cost, he was even more careful now because of it.

It made Castiel think wistfully of Kelly. She would have been so proud to see her son as he was. She had known all along that he was going to be good, magnificent, and he was. If only Jack could have known her properly. He had videos, but that wasn't the same as being with her and sensing her good spirit.

"What are you thinking, Castiel?" Jack asked.

"Can't you see?" Castiel had kept his mind open for to Jack delve in since he had made his plan for the stages of his training for Sam's rescue.

"I'm not looking," Jack admitted. "I don't want to invade you."

"Try now," Castiel said, bringing to mind Kelly's contented face as she had painted the walls of Jack's nursery.

He felt Jack's hesitance, and he sat calmly as Jack slowly brushed against his mind. With care, Jack pushed through the soap bubble barrier and into Castiel's thoughts.

He sucked in a breath. "Mom."

"Yes," Castiel said. "See her. See how happy she was."

He felt Jack's tremors disturb the air as he pulled himself from Castiel's mind.

Castiel looked at him and saw the sad smile he bore. Castiel thought he understood. Jack was happy to see her, but it made him miss her, too. It did the same for Castiel. She had been his friend.

"She would be very proud of you, Jack," he said, laying a hand on Jack's shoulder and squeezing it gently.

"You don't think she'd be angry for what I have done?"

"No," Castiel said. "She would understand that what happened to Sam was a mistake, and she would know that you are trying so hard to make it right. She loved you so much. She could never be angry with you."

Jack smiled. "Thank you, Castiel."

"I am only telling you what she would say if she was able to. Now, you need something to eat even if you won't rest properly. Let's see what there is in the kitchen."

Jack nodded, and they stood together and walked out of the room, through the halls.

When they got to the kitchen, they saw Dean was sitting at the table with a half-eaten bowl of cereal pushed away from him and a mug of coffee cupped in his hands.

"Good morning, Dean," Castiel said.

Dean grunted in response.

Castiel didn't know if the reception he received from Dean was because of what he had said in defense of Jack or merely because he was also in the room. He'd not had a chance to speak to him alone since he had returned over a week ago. He had stayed with Jack and Dean had avoided them, only demanding progress updates when they were together. He didn't seem interested in asking now though, staring into the depths of his coffee.

Jack picked up a mug and went to the pot to fill it as Mary came in. She looked sadly at her son's closed expression as she greeted him, and then she smiled at Castiel and Jack.

"Good morning."

"Morning, Mary," Jack said with genuine pleasure. As Mary reached for a mug, he handed her his and pointed at a chair. It pulled back from the table, and Mary looked at it, stunned.

"You can do it now?" she asked excitedly.

Jack nodded. "I only really got it last night. We've been practicing."

"Could have mentioned it," Dean said belligerently.

"You could have asked," Castiel replied.

Mary took the seat Jack had pushed out for her and she smiled as Jack sat beside her and Castiel opposite.

"This is great," she said. "Really, Jack, well done."

"Yeah, it's great, but what does this mean for Sam though?" Dean asked.

"It means we are a step closer to getting him back," Castiel said. "It is one thing mastered. Jack can access my mind, too. We need to teach him to use the connection to speak now. He has been blocking angel radio intentionally, so he will need to learn to access my voice alone. That will be difficult."

Dean nodded dourly and took a sip of his coffee. "Difficult. Awesome."

' _Can you pass the sugar please, Castiel?'_

Castiel was already passing Jack the bowl of sugar cubes when he realized the request hadn't been vocalized directly. He turned stunned eyes on Jack. "Did you do that on purpose?"

Jack gave him a small smile. "You noticed?"

"Yes!" Castiel said. "Can you hear me still?"

Jack shook his head. "Only what I did before."

"What's happening?" Mary asked while Dean frowned at them.

"He just used telepathy to speak to me," Castiel said.

"Good," Dean said. "He's nailed another skill. When can we get Sam back?"

"It's not as easy as that, Dean, and you know it," Mary said.

"Of course it isn't," Dean said bitterly.

"It is progress though," Castiel said. "We need him to be able to speak and listen in return. Sam will not be open to him as I am, so he needs to learn to break through a barrier to speak. It will not be easy, but it will happen."

"Fine," Dean said, standing and walking to the coffee pot. He refilled his mug and said, "Let me know when something helpful is coming," before striding from the room.

"I'm sorry," Mary said. "It's not his fault. He just needs his brother"

"I know," Jack said. "I miss Sam, too. He made me mad sometimes, pushing me, but now that I understand what he was doing and why, I see he was trying to help us both. And I am doing my best. It really feels like I'm learning now." He looked at Castiel. _'It is working, isn't it?'_

"It is, "Castiel said with a smile. "Have something to eat and then we can try some more." He passed the box of cereal and a bowl to him and Jack poured a bowl then doused it with milk.

"What is the next step?" Mary asked.

"Meditation and practice," Castiel said. "And much searching. There are a million places Sam could be. I am hoping the connection Jack feels to Sam will help him, but it still might take time. It would be a hard thing even for a practiced angel to do. Though he has immeasurably more power than me or my angelic family, he is still learning. It might take time, but we will do it."

Jack nodded. "We will. I promise, Mary."

She cast him a slightly sad smile. "I know, Jack. I appreciate it. We both do."

* * *

Jack wanted to do well. He wanted to help Sam, make Castiel and his mother proud, and please Dean and Mary by bringing Sam back, but the pressure scared him. He was so worried it would go wrong and he'd make it worse.

Though Castiel didn't mention it, he thought he would knew his fears and understood them. Castiel always understood. He could easily have hated Jack, he'd killed his mother who was Castiel's friend and trapped Sam who was his family, but he obviously didn't. He seemed to have endless patience and forgiveness. Jack had asked about it once, and Castiel said it was easy to give forgiveness when you were so often in need of it for yourself. Jack had wondered what he meant, but he hadn't asked, not wanting Castiel to have to talk about things that made him feel shame.

They were in the library, sitting side by side at the table. Neither Dean nor Mary were there. Mary had gone grocery shopping and they hadn't seen Dean since breakfast. Jack found it easier to concentrate and breathe when he wasn't there. It wasn't his fault, Castiel explained, he was consumed by Sam's absence, but he made it so much harder for Jack when he was glaring at him and needing more than Jack could give.

"Are you ready to begin?" Castiel asked, bring Jack from his thoughts.

"Yes," Jack said eagerly. "What do I have to do?"

"You need to calm down first. I know that you want to do this, but it will work better if you're not fighting against yourself. There's something humans do called meditation that I think will help. Close your eyes."

Jack obeyed and tried to relax as he waited for the next instruction.

"Take a deep breath in through your nose and release it through your mouth. Not too fast. Try to get the most oxygen from it before you breathe out again." He waited for Jack to do as he said a few times and then spoke again in a calm, quiet voice. "Good now, keeping that rhythm, try to reach my mind again. I am not going to be as open to you this time. You might have to fight to get through, but don't worry about hurting me. It's impossible to hurt an angel that way."

Jack concentrated and reached for Castiel's mind. He was drawn to it as it was like a hum in the back of his own thoughts. As he touched it, he felt the resistance. Before it had been so easy to enter, but this time it was like there was a wall between them. Jack prodded it, searching for a weak spot, but here was none. He remembered what Castiel said about not being able to hurt him, and so began to press against the wall. It didn't break but it did bend against the pressure. It drew away from him, and Jack pressed harder. A small hole was bored into it, and he heard Castiel's surprised thought.

' _He is so strong.'_

Jack opened his eyes and grinned at Castiel. "I heard that!"

"I know. I felt you enter. I was using my fullest strength to keep you out as well. I think we can try Sam now."

"Already?" Jack asked. "I thought it would take time."

"So did I, but you're stronger than even I thought. I really think you can at least try now."

"How?"

"Can you picture Sam?" he asked. "What he looks like, how his face changes with his thoughts?"

Jack nodded. Sam was a very expressive person. He seemed to share every thought on his face, and though Jack couldn't often interpret the emotions, he saw them.

"How does he feel to you?" Castiel asked.

Jack frowned. "Strong?"

"No, I mean his energy. When you're around him, how does he feel to your mind? What is different between him and Dean or Mary?"

"Oh. I see. Dean is sharp, jagged like rock, and he grates against me. Mary is softer, but hard underneath."

"And Sam?"

"He's smooth," Jack said. "He's like water." That feeling had helped Jack. It was why he had been so betrayed when he thought Sam was using him, as he had relied on him to help.

Castiel smiled fondly. "Yes. That sounds like Sam. Dean isn't always jagged; it's just how he's feeling now that makes him this way. When Sam is back, you will see how different he is. He's smoother, too. But Sam _is_ like water, he flows towards you, doesn't he?"

"Yes."

"That's him reaching for you. Sam does that nearly all the time. Only when he is very scared does he close off and stop reaching."

"So I have to feel him reaching for me?" Jack asked.

"Not this time. I think Sam will be very scared wherever he is. Search for that feeling though, the essence of Sam."

Jack closed his eyes again and let his breaths fall into the slow, deep rhythm. He reached out, passing by Castiel's close mind, and into a kind of smoke. He felt other minds, Mary's softness and Dean's rough edges, but he pulled away from them. He was searching for the only other mind he really knew.

It seemed to take forever until he came to a place of heat and fear. It almost drove him back, but he remembered what Castiel had said about Sam being scared. If that feeling scared Jack, it would surely scare Sam, too. He delved deeper into the heat and sucked in a quick breath. He could feel Sam. He reached for him, pulling himself close, and tried to enter his mind. It was another wall.

"I have him," he said quietly. "I can feel him, but he's blocked, too."

"Good," Castiel said, his happiness clear in his voice. "Now slowly and gently push through. Sam is human and can be hurt, so take care and time. There is no rush now that you have found him. When you're through, tell me, and I will try to use your connection to speak, too."

Jack imagined the barrier between them as a wall with a window. He could not break the wall as he had with Castiel, so he had to open the window. He gripped the edge and pulled. It was hard, it felt like it was welded closed, but slowly he felt give. When he had it open an inch, a blast of heat swept out at him, and he braced himself before slipping though.

He immediately felt the smooth touch of Sam's mind, like water on his face, and then he spoke as gently as he could.

"Sam, can you hear me?"

* * *

Sam was leaning back against the bars, watching Michael pace along the other side of the Cage and listen to the voices in his head.

If Sam had had any doubts that he was crazy before, they had been completely cast away over the past couple years. Michael was still completely convinced Sam was Lucifer—even though his many 'deaths' were so obviously human—and the times in which he spent talking to Raphael came more frequently and lasted longer. To use Dean's phrase, he'd gone guano.

That made Sam's position ever more precarious. He killed Sam for entertainment, out of irritation, for boredom relief, and most often to serve his mission to break Lucifer. He had also grown imaginative. He was no longer killing outright; he now saved death for the crescendo after a long bout of torture. It meant Sam was suffering almost continually.

He had just been 'killed' again and was in the short period of rest and recovery that came after it, pondering his situation. He was sometimes jealous of Michael. Not only was he the one with the blade, he was also the one that was crazy enough to be able to talk to his family. Sam wondered sometimes if it would be better for him if he did lose his mind. It might be nice to have some sane company to talk to in Dean. Though the logic was skewed. It he did start hearing voices, that would be the last nail in the coffin of his own sanity. He wasn't sure how he'd feel about that. Perhaps if he was crazy, he would feel less pain from Michael's attacks, would be less traumatized even. That would be a definite improvement for him.

Ultimately, he didn't have a choice. His sanity was ripped away like a blindfold in one moment when he heard the voice in his mind.

" _Sam."_

He jolted and gasped as the word echoed, sending gradually lessening waves of shock through him with each repetition.

" _Can you hear me, Sam?"_ the voice boomed.

"Loud," Sam said with a wince.

" _Sorry. Is this better?"_

The voice was softer now and it caught Sam off guard as he recognized it. It wasn't his own voice or Lucifer's as he'd once heard. It was Jack. Of all the options his mind could have summoned, he thought Jack was the most unlikely. Dean or Mary would make sense, Castiel even, but Jack was bizarre. He decided that he might as well throw himself into it. If this was insanity, it was so far pretty good.

"Hey, Jack."

" _Sam! I can't believe it's working."_

"Me either," Sam said. It wasn't nearly as bad as the last time he'd lost his mind. Lucifer wasn't singing classic rock to him or throwing firecrackers. It felt kinda nice. "How are you, Jack?"

" _Uh, I'm okay. Are you?"_

"No, I'm really not."

Michael turned on him now and glared. "Who are you talking to Lucifer?"

"The voice in my head," Sam said idly. "Apparently crazy is infectious. Thanks for that. I think it's really going to ease my time here."

Michael strode toward him, raising his sword.

Knowing what was coming, Sam braced himself and closed his eyes. He felt a sharp pain across his cheek and the warmth of blood dripping down.

"Open your eyes," Michael growled.

Sam obeyed and saw that the tip of Michael's blade was directly in front of his right eye. He had less than a second to register it before it plunged forward and into him. Her felt the surge of pain and then the wave of lethargy that made him boneless. He slumped back against the bars, and the burn came again as he was remade, the wounds healing and skin knitting together. When he was able to move again, he opened his eyes and look at Michael's back as he walked away from him and resumed the conversation with the voices in his own head.

" _Sam! Are you there?"_ Jack sounded panicked.

"I'm here," he said tiredly.

" _What happened?"_

"I had something in my eye," Sam said.

" _I heard screaming."_

"That'd be me. Now, Jack, no offence, but how come you're the one talking to me? I thought Dean or my mom would be a more obvious choice."

" _I was the only one that could reach you. It had to be me. Castiel wants to try, too, through me."_

Though Sam knew it was his own mind playing tricks on him, he felt a surge of grief at the mention of his friend. He would have loved a chance to talk to him again, but as a hallucination, it seemed wrong. He wanted the real person, though he knew that was impossible. Even if Castiel was alive, Sam was trapped, and Castiel no longer had his wings to save him.

"Sure," he said tonelessly. "Put him on." He thought it couldn't make things any worse at least.

There was a long period of silence and then an achingly familiar voice spoke. _"Sam? Can you hear me?"_

Sam sucked in a shaky breath and said, "Hey, Cas."

" _Oh, Sam. It is good to hear your voice."_

"Yours too. It's quite a trick, too, since you're dead and all."

" _I came back,"_ Castiel said.

"Sure you did."

" _Sam, do you really doubt it? How many times have I come back before?"_

Sam sighed. "You make a good point."

" _How are you, Sam?"_

"I'm technically alive at least," Sam said. "Though I also seem to keep dying, too."

" _Where are you?"_

Sam looked around the Cage. Even to the voices in his head, he didn't want to talk about the Cage. "It's not exactly Club Med," he said. "But it's familiar at least."

" _We need to know more,"_ Castiel said. _"We're trying to find you to save you, but there are so many places to search."_

"You're coming?" Sam asked. "Awesome. False hope. Exactly what I need."

" _It's not false. We're coming for you."_

"Sure you are. I appreciate it, Cas, but I think I'll just take my insanity and ignore that particular delusion for now. It's sure to make things harder in the long run."

"Who are you talking to now?" Michael asked angrily, lowering his hand from his ear.

"Castiel," Sam said. "Got a message for him?"

Michael glowered at him. Sam supposed the admission was the wrong one to make, as Castiel had once banished Michael with holy fire.

"Think I better go, Cas," Sam said, seeing the approaching agony in Michael's darkened eyes.

" _No, Sam! Stay with me. You have to tell me where you are."_

"Sorry. Michael takes precedence right now. He's the one with the sword. See ya, Cas." He barely had time to get the words out before Michael's blade was slicing into him and he was throwing his head back as he howled in pain.

* * *

Castiel felt the connection with Sam break with the howl of pain, and he heard Jack's harsh breaths beside him. He put his hand on Jack's arm and said, "Calm, Jack. Take slow breaths again."

Jack tried to marshal himself, and Castiel attempted to calm his own anxious demeanor.

"I'm sorry," Jack said. "I couldn't keep it open. That sound…"

"It's okay," Castiel said. "I understand. It was hard."

"I've never heard anything like it. What's happening to him?"

Castiel shook his head. He couldn't answer. He was thinking of Sam. Even before that sound of pain, it had been hard to speak to him. Hearing his voice had been a blessing for Castiel at first, but then he'd paid attention and heard the pain in it. Sam was suffering terribly, he sounded broken, exhausted, even though the words were light.

"He's strong," he said in an attempt to reassure himself. Sam was strong, but there was only so much one man could suffer, and it was clear Sam had reached his limit. He didn't believe them when they said they were coming, so he had no hope to cling to either. If they didn't act fast to get him back, there would be little of the real Sam left to save.

He looked at Jack and saw that he was exhausted. He couldn't reach for Sam again now. He didn't have it in him. He was also scared, and that would possibly block him from finding Sam in some form of self-protection.

"You did incredibly well," he said. "Really, Jack. The fact that you found him was an achievement and being able to let me speak to him made it even more amazing. You should be proud of yourself."

"We didn't find out where he was though," Jack said.

Castiel shook his head. "Sam didn't tell us, but I think I know already."

"Where?"

Castiel winced at the thought. "A long time ago, something terrible happened, and Lucifer was freed. We all paid a part in it, Sam and Dean broke seals, but my family and I enabled them to. It was the fault of more than one man, though Sam didn't see that. He took the blame and that led him to do something tragic and incredible, too. We found a way to defeat Lucifer, but it meant trapping him in Hell, in a place called the Cage. It is the worst imaginable place, and it is made worse by its occupants. When Sam went there, he dragged Lucifer and another archangel called Michael with him."

"I've heard of Michael. He was in the Bible. He's a good and great angel."

"He was," Castiel said. "But he was changed over the time since the Bible was written. Nothing changed him so much as his time in the Cage though. He became as cruel as Lucifer, and between the two of them, they tortured Sam for almost two centuries."

"That was what Dean was talking about," Jack said.

"Yes. Sam was at their hands for so many years, and it almost broke him completely. I rescued Sam from the Cage, but I didn't do a very good job of it, and because of it, he suffered for much longer."

He remembered that flight into Hell, the heat, agony and fear of it as he went to the deepest levels to save his friend. He remembered the triumph he had felt when he freed him, at least believed he had. His soul had been left behind.

"He was more broken than anything or anyone I have ever seen before by the end, and that was because of me. I did something terrible to him. He suffered so much and for so long because of it.

"What did you do?" Jack asked.

"That is a story for another day. What it comes down to is the Cage though. That was where Sam was trapped for all that time, and that is where I believe he is now."

"He's in the Cage?" Jack asked, horrified.

Castiel nodded.

There was the sound of breaking glass and the air filled with the smell of beer.

Castiel turned quickly and saw Dean standing at the end of the room, a broken bottle of beer at his feet. He was pale and Castiel could see tremors working through him.

"The Cage?" he asked weakly.

Castiel tried to find the words to explain and comfort, but Dean seemed unable to even see him. He staggered forward and fell into a chair, a low moan coming from him.

"No. Not again."

* * *

 **So… Jack and Castiel made contact. That scene was fun, even though this is the third draft. The first made Sam too broken. The second too snarky. This is what I decided on.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	8. Chapter 7

**Jenjoremy and I are on a mission. The show returns January 18th and we're going to try to have the story completely posted before then. It's a 20 chapter story, so that means quick updates. I don't think you'll mind as the chapters are twisty and turny so you'll probably be ready for the next as soon as you finish the last. This means a lot of work for Jenjoremy though, so be sure to send her all the hugs.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Seven**_

Mary had enjoyed grocery shopping before. It reminded her of the days when she was raising her boys. With Sam in a carrier on her chest and Dean helping to push the cart, she would trail the aisles of the store, looking for the best prices for their small budget, always keeping a little back to buy Dean a treat if he behaved and something special for John to enjoy on Saturday after a long week of work. She had felt so safe in the world then, settled in her life as a wife and mother. Her family had been her world and she had been content.

She did not have the same feeling of contentedness now, only the shadow of a memory of a better time. It was impossible to find any content in a life without her youngest son. Sam was gone and Dean was suffering, and she felt useless, unable to help either of them. She almost wished she had Dean's ability to make sadness anger and fear strength. She thought that would help. He got that from her father. Samuel Campbell had been able to use emotions to his advantage on a hunt. She had never leaned the trick.

Unable to help either of her boys, she did what she could to make it even a little easier for them all, providing them with food and the drink needed to take the edge off for them.

She parked the Impala in the garage and climbed out. She patted the hood as she walked around to the passenger side to take the bags from the seat. Hefting them into her arms, she walked up the stairs that led to the main rooms of the bunker and opened the door. She passed through a long hall before she came to the library.

As soon as she walked through the door, she knew something was wrong. She could smell beer on the air and there was almost total silence, the only sound being someone's harsh breathing. Castiel and Jack were standing back, and Dean was sitting on a chair that had been pulled away from the table. He was bent over, facing the floor.

Her arms weakened, and the bags started to slip. She held them closer to her chest and hurried to set them down on a table. When they were out of her arms, she rushed to Dean and crouched in front of him.

"Honey, what is it?"

The gentle word slipped from her lips automatically, softer that any form of address she had used since her return. He had always been _honey_ to her as a child. She had made it clear they weren't children anymore when she came back, and she saw now that was a cruel mistake to make. No matter how old they were, they were still her children, and she had forgotten that in her sadness for her lost heaven.

"Dean?"

He looked up and she saw that his face was colorless and his eyes wide but unseeing. He was in shock.

"Cas, get him a drink," she said quickly. "A strong one."

She heard Castiel's footsteps retreat and the clink of glass as he obeyed. Only when he returned and held out a tumbler of whiskey, did she look up. She took if from him and held it out to Dean. "Drink it, Dean. It will help."

Dean took a sip and then a deeper one. He blinked and his eyes seemed to gain awareness again. She didn't know what had happened to do this to him, but she hoped it was just him finally breaking as the pressure of the recent weeks was settling over him. If it wasn't, it meant something else had happened, something worse, and she was sure she knew to whom it had happened.

She cupped his cheeks in her hands and ducked her head to be in his line of sight. "What's happened?"

"Sam," he rasped. "It's Sammy."

He seemed incapable of giving more explanation and she turned to Castiel. "What is it?"

Castiel looked almost as wrecked as Dean as he answered. "We think we know where Sam has been trapped."

"Where?"

"The Cage."

Mary's legs shook and she moved her hands to Dean's shoulders to steady herself. Castiel placed a hand on her elbow and helped her to rise and then sit in a chair Jack pulled out for her. She bent over and tried to marshal herself. Her eyes stung and her legs bounced.

The Cage meant Lucifer and Michael, and they meant pain for him. Agony. Dean had told her about it. The Cage was the place her boy had been tortured to the point of losing his mind. She knew how broken he had been when he'd come out, how Death himself had to create a wall in his mind to block the memories, and when it had broken, how close they had come to losing him completely. He was there again.

"Lucifer," she spat. That monster could be hurting, torturing her son even now.

"We don't think so," Castiel said. "We think it is our world's version of the Cage that he is in, as it seems he is alone with Michael.

"Is that better?" Mary asked hopefully.

"No," Dean whispered. "Michael hurt Sam just as much as Lucifer last time; he told me."

"How do you know he's there?" Mary asked. "Did you see him?"

Castiel shook his head. "We spoke to him. Jack was able to forge a connection and we were both able to speak to him."

Mary squeezed her eyes closed as she asked, "How is he?" She was afraid of the answer.

"He seems better than last time he was there," Castiel said.

She looked up at him, searching for proof of a kind lie. She saw none. "Really?"

"Yes. He's stronger."

That filled Mary with a wave of relief. He was stronger now, he would handle it better, last longer.

"For how long?" Dean asked. "He's been there a couple weeks now. That translates to years. How long can he last?"

Mary swallowed hard. He had suffered years already. She couldn't wrap her mind around it. How was it possible, and how could he still be strong? What had her children become without her when this was something they could do? How much had they suffered that they didn't tell her? They had to save him.

She stood and grabbed Jack's arm. "Save him, Jack! You have to bring him back. Please! We can't leave him there alone."

Jack's face twisted with sadness. "I want to."

"But?" Mary asked. "Why can't you?"

"We're doing everything we can, Mary," Castiel said gently. "But Jack needs rest."

Mary's eyes widened. "Rest!" How could they talk about rest when Sam was in actual Hell? The very worst part of it, the darkest, cruelest place in the universe?

"You think Sam's getting much rest?" Dean asked, rising on shaky legs and advancing on Jack. Castiel stepped between them, but Dean didn't even seem to notice him. "He's being tortured right now, each second here lasts minutes for him, and he is in pain! God and Lucifer said Michael was crazy. Did Sam say what was happening to him?"

A shadow of pain washed over Castiel's face. "He didn't say."

"But you know," Mary said. "He told you enough to guess or you heard something. You know he is suffering, don't you?"

Castiel nodded and Mary choked out a sob.

"He's my son, Castiel."

"I know," Castiel said sadly. "And we want to help him, but Jack needs to rest. It's not a matter of tiredness; he has exhausted himself and his power. He needs time to… recharge."

"He needs energy," Dean said hopefully. "Take mine."

Mary frowned. "How…"

"Cas, you tapped into Bobby's soul to bring me and Sam back when we went to kill the Phoenix," Dean said. "Jack can do that."

Jack shook his head jerkily. "I can't!"

"Why not?" Dean growled.

Jack looked to Castiel for support and he nodded. "I was practiced when I did it with Bobby, and there was still immense risk. I could have destroyed him. Jack has never done anything like it before. He would almost certainly destroy you."

Mary's heart contracted painfully.

"I don't care!" Dean shouted. "It's Sam!"

"Yes," Castiel said. "It's Sam. What do you think he would do if he came back and found that he had lost you? Do you think he would last long?"

"He will handle it," Dean said.

"Like you are?" Castiel asked. "Jack cannot do it. He doesn't have the control, and I will not let you destroy yourself."

"You can't," Mary said. "I can't lose you, too, Dean, and neither can Sam. He needs you." An idea occurred to her and she sucked in a breath. "Use me. Sam can't live without Dean, but he did without me for almost all his life. Even when I was brought back, I wasn't much of a mother to him. He needs Dean not me. Jack, take it from me."

Jack backed away, his hands raised in front of him.

"No," Castiel said firmly. "No one will sacrifice themselves for this. It would destroy Sam as surely as the Cage would. We have to think of what he would want. If it kept you both alive, he would suffer another century of the Cage without thought, and you know it. Jack will rest now. We will come back as soon as he is ready, and we will get Sam back together. All of us. Alive. Do you understand?"

Mary had never heard Castiel speak like this before. He suddenly felt very much like an angel as she'd imagined them.

"Does he know we're coming?" Mary asked. "Did you at least tell him that? Does he have something to hold on to?"

"We told him," Castiel said awkwardly.

"But?"

Castiel sighed. "But he thought he was hallucinating. He didn't believe us."

"So he has nothing," Mary said. "No hope."

She tried not to imagine what her poor son must be going though, no hope of rescue and no hope of reprieve from the pain. How was he managing it? How could she sit idly while he suffered like that? She was a mother and her son needed her, but she was useless. It was so much worse for him than it had been for her with Lucifer in the other world. She had her boys to hang on for. Sam probably didn't even know that she and Dean were back. He had nothing.

Tears burned her eyes and when she blinked, they slipped down her cheeks. Dean enveloped her in his arms and she cried against him, vocalizing her pain as Dean did the same. They cried together and Mary thought of Sam; there was no one to hold him.

* * *

Every minute Castiel and Jack were gone felt like a lifetime. Dean alternately paced and sat in misery, trying to find something to relieve the pressure inside him. He felt like he was being choked by it. He'd never felt like this before. He needed to move, to do something, to fight someone, but there was no one to fight. He couldn't even vent his rage at Jack because he was closeted away with Castiel. Even if he could, it would only slow things down. The damn kid needed to 'rest', and he was pretty sure him hurling every crime he had committed and obscenity he knew at him wouldn't help with that. He just had to wait.

When he had helped Mary back to her room to give her space, he had paused a moment outside Jack's room and heard Castiel talking him through some kind of breathing exercise. Dean rolled his eyes and walked away. What kind of power did he have that could be replenished with some deep breathing? Why couldn't he just will himself rested? He was supposed to surpass Lucifer in strength, yet Dean didn't see Lucifer doing much meditation. He just needed to try harder, dammit.

There was one good thing about the situation and that was the fact that, when he was back, Sam would be forced to see what kind of monster Jack really was. He couldn't ignore the facts after Satan Junior had stuffed him back in the worst place imaginable. They would finally be on the same team again, working out a way to get Jack away from Castiel—his 'daddy'—and taking him out.

Dean was back to sitting, wishing he had a drink but knowing Sam needed him to be as clearheaded as he could be when he got back. He wanted to do whatever it took to make this as easy as possible for Sam, and Dean being roaring drunk wasn't going to help him at all.

He was just wondering if he should make a pass by Jack's room again, see what they were doing, when Mary came into the room. Her eyes were red and bloodshot still, but they were dry now. She looked tired though. They were all tired. When Sam was back, they could all finally get some proper rest. He was going to need rest, too, and care. He needed them all around him to cushion the blows of what he had been through. Everyone but Jack that was. Dean was letting him nowhere near Sam.

"Hey," he said.

She forced a smile for him. "I think Cas and Jack are coming back, too. I heard them moving around."

"About damn time."

He stared at the door, willing them to come through, and after a minute they did.

Dean had to admit that Jack did look better now. There was color in his cheeks that Dean hadn't noticed was missing before. His eyes were brighter, and he held himself taller. He looked like he was finally ready to do something to actually help.

"You ready?" Dean asked, fixing his eyes on Castiel.

"Jack is ready," Castiel said pointedly.

"Good. Get to it."

Mary touched Jack's arm gently. "Please."

Jack nodded and sat in the chair Castiel pulled out for him. He took a few breaths and then turned to Castiel. "Can you help?"

Castiel sat opposite him and took his hands. "Remember the feeling," he said. "Find my mind, pass it over, and reach for Sam's. You have found him once so it should be easier now. How did you get to him last time? Did you break a barrier?"

"No. There was a window that I opened."

"That is good," Castiel said. "This time imagine a door. Open it as wide as you can and I will do the rest."

Dean knew that meant Castiel thought he was going in after Sam alone, and he knew that wasn't happening. He was getting his brother out. Castiel could come if he liked, he might even be helpful, but Dean was saving Sam.

He watched Jack's face carefully as a look of concentration came over him and his eyes squeezed shut. "I have something," he said at last.

"Is it Sam?" Castiel asked.

"Yes. I can hear him again. He's talking to me. He sounds…"

"What?" Mary asked,

Castiel held up a hand to her and said, "Find the door, Jack, and open it carefully."

Dean looked around the room, searching for a sign of a rift opening, and saw a golden light drifting on the air. It ebbed and flowed to a point in the middle of the long room and then stopped. Dean watched as it slowly stretched down to the floor and up into the air. When it touched the floor, he ran at it, throwing himself into the light even as Mary shouted behind him. "No, Dean!"

He felt the lurch in his stomach and then he was landing on a hard floor and the shock was jolting up his knees. He looked around and his breath caught in his throat.

Sam had never really explained the Cage. Dean had imagined it as being similar to his Hell. The rack, the heat and the stench of sulfur. It was different. It looked like an actual cage. The walls were made of gridded metal outside of which a high wind seemed to howl. It felt like a horrifying darkness was over him as he scanned the room for Sam.

He was propped against the bars, but Dean didn't see him properly at first because Michael was partially blocking him from sight as he worked over him. Dean swallowed nausea as he edged around to see him. Sam was coated in blood and his eyes were only half open. He looked vague, indifferent, even as Michael cut across his shoulder.

"You bastard!" Dean shouted, lunging at Michael.

Michael turned, his brow creasing with confusion as he shoved Dean away. "What are you doing here?"

Dean landed hard on the other side of the cage, and struggled to his feet as Michael advanced on him with his blade in his hand. Dean saw the insanity in his eyes and knew pain was approaching, but all he cared about was getting Sam out. He was pleased when he saw Castiel appear but disappointed that, instead of going to Sam who was slumped against the bars, seeming not to notice Dean and Castiel's arrival or the absence of Michael's attacks, he rushed at them.

"Michael!" he shouted.

The archangel turned to him. "Castiel?"

Dean leapt to his feet and ran to Sam. There was no time to talk or comfort; he had to get him out of there. He grabbed Sam's arm and yanked him to his feet. He felt light, and was easy to move, as if he was diminished physically as well as injured. With his arm around Dean's shoulder, he stumbled forward to the glowing rift with Dean.

"That's it, Sammy," Dean said. "We're getting out. I've got you. You're going to be fine."

They stepped into the rift and Dean felt the lurch at the same time as his mother cried out. "Sam!"

She rushed toward them as they staggered away from the rift, and she pulled Sam away from Dean and ran her hands over him, not seeming to notice the many wounds scattered over Sam's arms and chest. Dean released Sam to her as he knew she needed this and Sam was keeping his feet well enough. He stepped back and watched the tearful reunion.

"Sam! Oh, god, Sammy! Are you okay? I'm here. I've got you, honey. I'll take care of you."

Sam smiled vaguely as she cupped his face in her hands and smoothed her thumbs over his cheeks.

"Castiel?" Jack said worriedly.

Dean suddenly became aware that his friend was still absent. "Keep it open!" he bellowed at Jack as he ran for the rift again. Before he reached it, Castiel stumbled out and fell forward onto Jack who was reaching for him. He looked battered, his cheeks were bruising, but Dean could see no blood.

He had a moment's relief before Michael stepped through the rift, too. He paid no attention to any of them but Sam. He pointed a finger at him and shouted, "Lucifer!"

With strength Dean wouldn't have believed him capable of even a second ago, Sam shoved Mary back and stood in front of her with his arms spread.

Dean made to run between him and Michael, but the archangel waved an arm and he was propelled backward into a bookshelf. Sam stood strong and still as Michael reached him and drew back his sword.

Mary screamed and Dean shouted inarticulately as the blade pierced Sam's already ruined chest, right over his heart, and sank into him.

* * *

 **So… I mentioned the twisty turny part, right? This is what I meant. The next chapter will be out very soon.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	9. Chapter 8

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing, Gredelina1 for supporting, and you all for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Eight**_

Sam seemed to fall in slow motion.

Dean ran towards him with a cry ripping up his throat, hoping to cushion his fall, but it was too late. Sam fell to the ground, his head making a sick thunk sound as it hit the polished floorboards.

Dean fell to his knees beside him as Mary dropped down on the other side, her shaking hands finding Sam's face and turning him to look at her. Dean pressed his hands to the wound on Sam's chest, feeling the sickening squelch of blood against his fingers. He could feel the hollow beneath them and Sam's shallow breaths.

His eyes were still open and yet even as they looked at Mary, they became blank and unknowing as the movement of breaths beneath Dean's hands stopped.

"Sam!" Dean bellowed. "Sammy, no!"

Mary began to scream Sam's name. She patted his cheeks and turned his face from side to side, trying to wake him.

Dean sat back on his haunches and his hands moved from Sam's chest to his own face, smearing his cheeks with blood as he tried to take in what had happened.

Someone was laughing behind him, a laugh tinged with insanity, and then there was a shout of anger and a rush of heat. Dean threw himself over Sam, futilely protecting him as he looked to the side and saw Michael become engulfed in flames and disappear.

He straightened up and shouted, "Cas! He needs you!"

Castiel appeared in his side vision, and he moved back to allow him access. He moved to Sam's head and pushed back his long hair from his face. He only realized he was crying when he saw a tear drop onto Sam's face.

Mary was still screaming, begging Sam to wake up, though they all knew he couldn't. Not without help.

"Castiel," he said, his voice breaking.

"I am here, Dean," he said, his own voice choked. He gently moved Mary's hands from Sam's face and cupped his cheeks in his own. Dean's eyes were fixed on Sam, wanting to see the moment he came back, wanting his face to be the one he saw first.

Light glowed from Castiel's palms and Dean held his breath, but nothing happened. The light died and Sam's eyes remained open and unknowing, his chest still.

"What? Why?" Mary asked. "You have to! Dean told me…"

"These are wounds from an archangel's blade," Castiel said.

"So? You've fixed worse," Dean said. "You saved Bobby! You pulled me out of the Pit! You pulled Sam out of the Cage! You have to help him!"

Castiel squeezed his eyes closed, his face a picture of misery.

"Castiel," Mary pleaded.

His eyes suddenly opened and he looked over his shoulder. Dean followed his gaze and saw Jack standing frozen. His lips were parted and his eyes shocked.

"I need you, Jack," he said.

"I can't," Jack said. "That angel said I couldn't save people."

"You can," Castiel said. "I need you to lend me strength, not to heal. We have to try."

"Please," Dean begged, looking at him imploringly. "You have to do it. This can't be the end for him. He didn't even see me. Please."

Jack walked towards Castiel. "I don't know how to do this."

"It's just like when you see my thoughts," Castiel said. "Create an opening and send me your power. Hold my shoulder and feel me reaching for you. You can't hurt me, remember, but you might be able to save Sam."

"Please…" Dean said imploringly.

He nodded and laid a hand on Castiel's shoulder. Castiel put his hands on Sam's cheeks again and concentrated. "That's it," he said. "A little more. Don't be scared." Suddenly his eyes flared gold and Dean saw the light creeping down his wrists to his hands where it began to pulse.

"Please, Father," he whispered. "Give us this."

Sam's lips parted with a shallow breath and he blinked once. His eyes found Dean's and his brow furrowed.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said tearfully, relief and happiness washing through him.

Sam looked like he was going to speak, but then his eyes fell closed. His breaths still came though, and when Dean pressed his fingers to his throat, he felt the thrum of life there. It was faster than he would have liked and weak, but it was there.

"Dean?" Mary said, her voice filled with fear.

"He's alive," Dean said, wiping his face with his sleeve. "He's back."

"Why hasn't he healed though?" Mary asked.

Dean looked at Sam properly and saw what she meant. The wounds on his arms and chest were still there, and the worst wound above his heart, though smaller, was there too.

"Cas?"

"I have done what I can for now," Castiel said, his voice weak with exhaustion. "Even with Jack's help, this is taking everything I have. Neither of us have the power to do more yet. We would if we could, I swear, but the power just isn't there. We must watch him carefully and tend to him as best we can."

Dean nodded. "Okay. We can wait. He'll be okay."

"He needs a hospital," Mary said.

Castiel shook his head. "We can't do that. A hospital would treat him with human means, and they're useless against the damage from an archangel blade. We have to heal Sam in stages. I can watch him as well as any form of human monitoring machinery. He is breathing alone. He just needs time and our help."

"He's going to be okay?" Mary asked.

Castiel frowned as he tried to frame his words. "He is very badly injured, and very weak. He could fail again, but with Jack's assistance, I can save him as we just did."

"You mean bring him back to life?" Mary asked. "He might die again, and you'll have to bring him back."

Castiel nodded. "Yes."

"Is that right?" Mary asked. "Will it hurt him to keep doing that?"

"Stop!" Dean said harshly. "It will be fine. Cas and Jack will heal him, and he'll be fine. He can do this." He couldn't think about the alterative. "Help me get him to his room, Cas."

He stood and eased his hands under Sam's shoulders. He knew the angel could probably carry Sam on his own, but Dean needed to take care of his brother. Castiel took Sam's legs and, slowly and carefully, they carried him from the room and through the halls to his bedroom.

Mary stayed at their side the whole time, her eyes cast down at her son, and when Castiel and Dean eased Sam onto the side of his bed, she sat beside him.

"I need to clean him up," Dean said. "Cas, can you get whatever gauze and bandaging you can find from the treatment room? Mom, I need two bowls of warm water. There's big ones in the kitchen cabinet by the stove. Wipe them out with some alcohol first."

Mary nodded vaguely but didn't move.

"Mom," Dean prompted. "I need you do this."

She tore her eyes from Sam and stood. "Okay."

Dean watched her and Castiel leave them room before he went to the desk to get a pair of scissors to cut Sam out of his ruined clothes. He found them, but didn't start, as he didn't want Mary to have to see the full extent of the damage to Sam. That was a nightmare she didn't need. Dean already had plenty.

Dean saw movement in the doorway, and he looked, expecting his mother or Castiel, but it was Jack. He looked nervous as he asked, "Can I help at all?"

"Can you fix him?" Dean asked.

Jack shook his head. "No. I'm sorry. I will help Castiel when he says it's time though."

"Then there's nothing you can you can do," Dean said dully just as his mother appeared.

Jack stepped back as Mary entered holding a bowl of water. She carried it in and set it down on the desk and said, "Jack, there's another bowl in the kitchen. Can you fetch it for me, please?"

"Of course."

Jack walked away, and Mary came to stand beside Dean. He put his arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Look at him, Dean," she said sadly. "Look what that bastard did to him."

"I know," Dean said. "But he's going to be okay. He'll have Cas and Jack working on him. He'll be back on his feet in no time, and then we'll take care of the rest."

Castiel came into the room with a box of dressings in his hands and Jack followed with the second bowl of water. They set them down on the desk and Castiel pulled out a packet of towelettes and offered them to Dean. "You should clean your face, too."

Dean realized what a ghoulish sight be must be presenting to them, his face coated with Sam's blood. He took them and nodded. "I'll do that. You guys give us a few minutes."

Castiel nodded and led Jack out of the room. Mary didn't move though. "Mom," Dean said.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said. "He's my son."

"I know," Dean said, "Which is why you can't do this. Sam wouldn't want you to have to do it; he wouldn't want you to see him like this. I've done it before."

They had cleaned each other wounds and worse. Dean remembered each wound Sam had ever gained on their hunts and how he had tended to them. This was the most hurt he'd seen him though, and he knew what was currently hidden by his shredded shirt was going to be worse. Dean had plenty of nightmares of scenes like this; one more wasn't going to make much difference. Mary had already been through enough today—things Sam would never want to put her through. She had watched him die. Dean needed to protect her from further trauma in Sam's place.

"He's your son, but so am I, and I'm his brother. Let me do this for you both."

"Okay," she said reluctantly. "I'll be close though. If you need me, if he needs me, call."

"I will," Dean promised.

She cast Sam a long look and then walked out of the room, clicking the door closed behind her.

"Just you and me now, Sammy," Dean said.

He cleaned his hands and face first with the towelettes and then rubbed his hands with alcohol gel. He was sure Castiel and Jack could knock out any infection Sam could pick up, but it was better that they not need to. Sam was already weak enough.

When he was clean, he picked up the scissors and carefully cut away Sam's bloody clothes. He had been right in thinking Mary didn't need to see this. There were so many wounds, and some were very deep. Sam would be in agony if he was awake. Though Dean wished he was awake so that he could talk to and reassure him, he knew it was better for Sam to be unconscious now.

When Sam was stripped, he opened the packages of gauze and dipped some in the water and started to wash away the blood. He started at the largest wound on his chest, wanting that to be cleaned and covered so he didn't have to see it anymore, though the sight was burned into his brain. He dried the skin carefully and gently, then laid over a large dressing. When it was covered, he moved onto the other wounds on his chest, cleaning and drying each and covering the deepest.

He had thought he would run out of dressings before he did wounds, but the Men of Letters had stocked the place well, and he and Sam had added to it, and Castiel had brought plenty. When Sam's chest was cleaned and covered, he moved on to his arms. He thought it would be easier if he used bandages to wrap his arms rather than attempting to dress them individually, as there were so many here and they would cross over. He carefully cleaned him and then he wrapped his arms carefully. When each of the worst wounds was covered, he went to Sam's drawers and found a pair of sweatpants Sam had used for running in what felt like a lifetime ago and a zipped hoodie. He dressed him, putting on clean socks and arranged him into what looked like the most comfortable position before stepping back and looking down at him.

The wounds were covered now, but there was no fooling himself that this was a minor illness or ailment. Sam was colorless and only his shallow breaths moved him. He must have been in immense pain, worse when Dean was tending to his wounds, but he hadn't twitched. He was deep within himself. Dean didn't dare test how deep it was because he was scared that awareness would bring agony to Sam.

He patted Sam's hand and said, "Let's get Mom back," then went to the door and opened it.

Mary was pacing back and forth outside, and she came to a sudden halt when the door opened, looking at Dean. "How is he?" she asked.

"He's cleaned up." That was about the best news he had to offer.

Mary brushed past him and entered the room. She went quickly to the bed and sat down on the side, taking Sam's hand in her own and whispering a greeting.

"Jack not here?" Dean asked.

"I sent him to rest. Do you want him?"

"Is it time for him yet?" Dean asked.

"Not yet."

"Then you might as well let him stay there," Dean said.

He wasn't sure how he felt about Jack anymore. He was beyond grateful that he had opened that rift that had let them save Sam, and that he had lent Castiel strength so that he could bring him back, but he had been the one to put Sam back in the Cage in the first place. None of this would have happened if Jack hadn't lost control. He didn't feel the same hatred as before, but he couldn't make sense of what he did feel either. He knew that at some point he owed him a conversation though.

Dean pulled up a chair the other side of the bed to where Mary sat and looked at his brother. He felt exhausted from everything that had happened and the emotional storm he had been through—and was still going through—but he knew he would get no rest. There were things they needed to discuss.

"What are we going to do about Michael?" he asked.

Castiel sighed. "I don't know. He is not dead."

"Figured that," Dean said. "It looked like a holy fire molotov got him again, and that only took him away ten minutes last time."

"It was like holy fire," Castiel agreed. "It was Jack though. He managed to banish him. But Michael is very much alive. I can hear it on angel radio; they are reacting to his return."

"Yeah? What are they saying?" Mary asked without looking at them.

"Some are rejoicing. Others are more concerned. Archangels have been a trial to them in recent years. Michael drove the force of the apocalypse, and then Raphael's rule was… disconcerting. The only angels left alive now are the ones that followed me. I killed Raphael's army. There is also the matter of Michael's insanity. It has not gone unnoticed."

"Can we ward against him?" Mary asked.

"Not without barring Jack and myself, no."

"We're not doing that," she said quickly. "We need you still. Sam needs you."

"I agree," Castiel said. "But I don't think Michael will return here. Jack must have scared him. I don't know whether he knew already what Jack was from Sam, but even if he didn't, he will be quickly filled in by the angels. He will recognize the threat Jack poses to him. He will stay away from us all, I am sure, until he feels he has enough power to combat him."

"How long will that take?" Dean asked.

Castiel considered. "Do you remember Jesse Turner?"

"The kid you called the antichrist?"

"Yes. He was the by-product of a demon and a human. He was much less powerful than Jack, yet he could have posed a threat to the Host of Heaven if he'd had a will to."

"So Jack could wipe out Heaven?"

"He could but would not, I am sure. He is not his father. He is stronger than him though, and Michael knows it. He will not come for us."

"What will he do?" Mary asked. "Is he going to just be happy to be freed?"

"I truly don't know. I think Sam will be able to better inform us when he is awake."

"Not yet," Mary said, stroking Sam's pale cheek. "We can't let him wake up yet."

"No," Castiel agreed. "We will wait. There is no immediate threat. I think Sam would know though, as Michael called Sam Lucifer when he attacked. If he believed Sam was his brother, he might have told him more, too."

Dean became disinterested in the question. If Michael wasn't going to come to them while Jack was there, it didn't matter. They would get Sam on his feet and then they would take care of it. As long as Sam was okay, they could deal with it together.

They always had before.

* * *

 **So… Twisty enough for you? Jack finally gets to do something Dean wants. That's really going to ease their relationship, which I know has been bothering some of you.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	10. Chapter 9

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for catching all my mistakes and Gredelina1 for supporting. Thank you all for reading.**

 **I am heading to Sweden on Wednesday to see Gredelina1, so I might not be able to reply to reviews individually and get out the quick updates the same. I will do my best, but if I miss you, know I am so grateful to you all and I will post as soon as I can. Much love and Happy Holidays xxx**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Nine**_

Dean looked into the mirror as he washed his hands and saw the smudge of blood under his ear that he had missed when cleaning himself up. Sickened at the thought of his brother's blood painting him all night, he scrubbed it away with his wet hands. Even when it was gone, he thought he could feel it. His washed his face and patted it dry then stared into the mirror again. His face was clear of blood but not horror. His eyes were haunted and he was wan. He thought it was going to take Sam waking up and talking to him for him to lose that look. That was what he needed, but Sam needed rest and peace still.

He turned away from his own reflection and walked out into the hall. He was so set on getting back to Sam that he didn't immediately notice Jack waiting in the hall. It wasn't until he spoke his name softly that Dean stopped.

"Can I talk to you?" Jack asked.

Dean didn't want to talk, he wanted to be with Sam already, but he owed Jack the chance to speak and the kid clearly needed it. He nodded and said, "How are you doing?"

Jack looked shocked at the mild question, and Dean thought he saw a little spark in his eyes, but he answered seriously. "I am feeling very bad."

"You're not alone in that," Dean said.

"When Sam was taken away, I felt guilty, and then when we discovered where he was, it was much harder. I didn't think it was possible for me to feel worse than I already did, but seeing Sam now, seeing how much he has been hurt and watching him die, was unbearable. I understand why you were so angry now, because you knew what was happening to him."

"I didn't know," Dean said. "I suspected. Me and Sam have what we call Winchester luck."

"Luck is a good thing, right?"

"Not for us. What we mean is that we have none. If something can go wrong, it usually will for us. We have been living a crap-storm for years, with only the smallest breaks and successes for us. We save other people all the time, at least we try, but it's like the times we're actually able to save them takes all the good luck and we're left with none. I figured Sam was living the worst case wherever he was because that's how it works for us, but even I didn't know that it was going to be _this_ bad. I never thought he would die because of it. Not properly. What Michael did to him in the Cage was torture him, that's the injuries you can see now, but it would have been worse for Sam when he was in there. Michael would have kept hurting Sam until he died, and then he would have waited until he was healed to start all over again."

"Sam died a lot?" Jack asked.

Dean nodded. "I don't know exactly how long it was for Sam, but it's safe to say he died at least once every day he was there, and that adds up to…"

"Thousands," Jack breathed. "Castiel explained the difference in time. Did Sam really die all those times?"

"Probably more," Dean said. "So, yeah, I was angry because I guessed that was what was happening to him."

"I am so sorry," Jack said emphatically. "I would never have… I didn't mean…"

"I know," Dean said. "I get it. You couldn't control what happened. See, I thought you were all Lucifer inside, but I see now that your mother is a big part of you, too. I don't know if you're a threat to us, you're definitely dangerous, but you did some incredible things lately, and for that I owe you."

Jack smiled tentatively. "I opened the door."

"You did, and you did more. You made it possible for us to get Sam back, and you took out Michael—at least for a while. I think he would have killed us all if you hadn't, and you helped Cas bring Sam back. I owe you for all of our lives this time. Thank you, Jack."

Jack's eyes were wet as he looked at him. "I wanted to help."

"I know. I have screwed up wanting to help in the past. I'm not saying what you did, trapping Sam, was good, but you didn't do it to hurt him. It _was_ an accident. I couldn't see that before. I was too angry. Truth is, I have screwed up a few times before, too. I have made bad choices and I have acted in anger."

He remembered Gadreel, how he had been so desperate to save Sam that he had tricked him into being a vessel again. That had ended with the loss of Kevin. He had also acted in anger, banishing Sam when he should have been reaching for him before Lilith was killed, and that had ended in disaster. He understood anger and he understood guilt and regret. He thought Jack had been suffering enough already for his mistake without him throwing it back at him. That had been another mistake he'd made. If he had been easier on Jack, he might have progressed faster and saved Sam sooner.

"I've let people down, Jack, and so has Sam, but we've learned that we have to stow it and focus on helping the next person. You running over what happened, feeling guilty, isn't going to help you rest and get back your strength. You and Cas are the only ones that can save Sam, so do what you can to speed it up by taking care of yourself. That's the best way to make it right. Sam would tell you the same if he could. He'd probably do it with a soppy look and a speech about forgiving yourself, but the message is the same. Do what you can to save him, and we'll all be good."

Jack nodded eagerly. "I will. I promise I won't let him down again."

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell the kid not to make promises he might not be able to keep, but he realized he still hadn't learned that lesson. He'd told Sam he would be fine, and he'd been killed instead.

"I need to get back," he said. "You go rest, or breathe, or whatever it is Cas has you doing. Just take care and come when it's time."

"Okay." Jack walked away, and Dean noticed that his head was held high and there was lightness in his step that hadn't been there before. It made him realize he hadn't been the only one with something dragging him down.

He went back to Sam's bedroom and eased open the door. Mary raised her head from the pillow slowly and blinked blearily. "Dean?"

"Yeah."

She looked at Sam and her face cleared of sleep. She had been lying on the other side of the bed to Sam, holding his hand. She carefully placed his hand at his side again and sat up slowly so as not to jostle him. She leaned back against the headboard and curled her legs under her. Her eyes on Sam, she said, "I used to do this with you when you were sick. I'd spend all night lying with you in case you woke up and needed me."

"I remember," Dean said. "You would always sing me back to sleep, too."

"Hey Jude," she said with a sad smile.

"Yeah. I would sometimes tell you I was sick, even when I was starting to feel better, just so you'd stay with me a little longer."

"I know," she said. At Dean's surprised look, she smiled. "You can't fool your mom, Dean."

"I guess not," Dean said, wondering what other sins and lies she knew that he had been trying to hide from her.

She nodded. "And your dad would sit with you while I made your soup."

"Tomato-rice," Dean said.

"Yep. You loved it, but would only eat it when you were sick."

"That was what made it special," Dean said with a pang of sadness for his lost childhood.

He hadn't thought of those days, with his mother and father taking care of him, for so long. When he was old enough to realize it hurt less to not think about those times, he tried to stop it. He couldn't always control it, sometimes he had to remember when Sam would beg him to talk about their mom, but it grew easier when they got older and Sam stopped asking.

"I wish I could help as easily as making him soup and lying with him," she said.

"Yeah," Dean said. "Me too. It's never easy when he's hurt, but this is the worst I can think of."

"He died. I never knew there could be anything in life that could hurt as much as losing one of you."

Dean understood how she felt, but he knew there was worse for him. He had seen Sam die, and it was always horrific and agonizing, but he'd learned it was harder when he didn't die. When he did, he was at peace. It was when he lived and suffered that Dean hated even more. With death, for them at least, there was hope, but he had never been able to bear seeing Sam in pain.

"How do you get through it?" she asked. "You've seen it before. How do you cope?"

"You don't. There is no way to get over it. You have to find a way to live with the memories and nightmares and keep going on. We all have to, Sam included. We've seen a lot in our lives, but for us, seeing something like this is worse than Hell."

Mary shook her head. "I hate that you can both know how that feels to make the comparison."

"Me too. It is what it is though. You have to take the victories you can find when you can."

She fell silent for a moment and then said, "Do you think he'll be okay?"

"Yeah. Cas will be able to heal him eventually with Jack's help. He'll be back on his feet."

"That's not what I meant. Castiel will heal him, yes, but will Sam find a way to live with these new nightmares and memories? You said it broke him before."

Dean had been wondering the same thing. He had no clear-cut answers for her, but he told her what he had been telling himself. "It wasn't for so long this time. Last time it was almost two centuries that broke him, Castiel took the experience from him, but he didn't take the memories. Sam still remembers what happened; he just doesn't feel them the way he did before."

"Do you think he can do that for him again?"

"I don't know. If it comes to it, I know he'll try. Sam is strong though, and it's different this time. When he broke before, I was pretty broken, too, and I couldn't be what he needed me to be to help him through it. Cas had been killed, at least we thought he had, and the world was in the toilet. Sam needed comfort and care, and though I did what I could, it wasn't enough. I'm just not good at that stuff. But you're here now. You can be what I can't."

Mary looked pleased, perhaps at the reassurance that there was a place for her in this. Dean knew she was going to be needed. Sam never had a mom, he'd had a mother in the last year, but it was different. It was a mom he was going to need now. She would need it, too. If things were as bad as Dean was scared they were going to be, she was going to suffer with Sam, because watching someone you loved going through something like this was more than words could describe.

* * *

Mary and Dean sat for a long time, just watching Sam and talking occasionally. Mary stroked a hand over him, smoothing his hair and feeling the chill of his cheeks. They'd bundled him with blankets and cranked up the antique heating, but he was still cold. Mary thought it was a side effect of his injuries, and she hoped when Castiel next healed him it would help.

At the forefront of her mind at all times was the warning Castiel had given them about Sam perhaps failing again. With each occasional long breath he drew or extended sigh, she thought they were losing him, but Sam kept going, fighting, and she liked to think that it was because he knew they were there with him; he could feel her beside him, hear Dean's voice, and know they needed him.

She was lost in thoughts of how they would help Sam when he was awake again when there was a knock on the door and Castiel peered in with Jack behind him.

"Is it time?" she asked hopefully.

"Yes," Castiel said. "We're both ready."

They came in and walked to the bed, and Mary pulled back her hand from Sam and Dean stood.

"Dean, can you check the chest wound?" Castiel asked. "We need to know its state of repair as I'm going to focus on that most of all."

Dean unzipped Sam's hoodie and peeled back the side of the large dressing on the center of Sam's chest, holding his hands so Mary's view was blocked. She was selfishly glad. She didn't want to see that injury close up. Seeing it inflicted had been bad enough for her.

"Okay," he said. "Get on with it."

Castiel laid his hand on Sam's forehead and Jack gripped his shoulder. "Just like last time, Jack," he said. "Send me as much as you spare."

Jack concentrated and his eyes glowed golden as light passed through his hand to Castiel and down the angel's arm. The light burgeoned beneath Castiel's hand with a golden cast to it. Castiel frowned and Mary fixed her eyes on Sam's face.

"It's working," Dean said. "I can see it."

"Good," Castiel said in a strained voice. It lasted longer than last time, perhaps as Jack was rested whereas before he had been drained from opening the rift to the Cage, but it still didn't seem long enough before Castiel withdrew his hand and said, "Okay, Jack. That's enough."

Jack moved back and Castiel examined the wound beneath the dressing. "That's much better."

"He's still out though," Dean said. "He has to be in pain. Why is there no sign of it?"

"He's stronger, Dean," Castiel said. "I can feel it." He looked back over his shoulder. "Can you, Jack?"

"Yes," he said tiredly. "I can feel him starting to reach again."

"Reach?" Dean asked.

"It means he's doing better," Castiel said. "He's fighting to come back."

Mary reached for Sam's face again and stroked it. "Hear that, honey? You're doing better. And we're here waiting for you, so keep fighting, okay?" She watched Sam for any sign of reaction, but here was none. His eyes were still beneath their lids and his breaths shallow. She thought he had a little more color though, and he felt a little warmer. He was healing, even if he couldn't talk to her yet.

Dean resealed the dressing again, zipped the hoodie and sat down. "Thanks Cas, Jack."

Mary was startled that he included Jack in his thanks, and Castiel obviously was, too. Jack seemed pleased but not as surprised as Mary would have expected. She suspected there had been a conversation that she'd not been party to. She was glad. Jack needed a break, and Dean needed to let it go and accept what had happened and what Jack had done for them and Sam.

"Jack, you should eat something," Castiel said. "And rest." He looked from Dean to Mary. "You should both eat, too. Sam needs you to be strong when he wakes."

Mary nodded. She knew he was right, but she didn't want to leave her boys, and she was sure Dean didn't want to leave them either.

"I'll bring something to you," Castiel said.

"And coffee," Dean said.

"And coffee," Castiel agreed. "Though real rest might be better for you, Dean. Have you slept at all?"

"A little," Dean said.

"Try for more," Mary said. "I will wake you if anything changes."

"Maybe later."

Castiel cast Mary a pointed look and she nodded. She would encourage Dean to sleep some more when he'd eaten.

He and Jack left the room and Mary turned her attention to Sam again. He was definitely warmer now, and his color seemed to be improving even more. She wondered if there was some latent effect to Castiel's healing or if this was Sam's own body taking the strain.

Dean leaned forward in his chair and looked at him, too. "Something's different," he said carefully.

"Yes!" She was pleased he had noticed it, too. "He's warmer, and look at his color."

Dean got up and walked toward the bed. He held the back of his hand against Sam's cheek and nodded. "Definitely warmer." He frowned down at him and then sucked in a breath. "Sammy?"

Mary had seen it, too. Sam's eyes were moving under their lids.

"Sam?" she said, leaning close to him and stroking his cheek. "Wake up, honey. We're here."

Sam's eyes opened a sliver and she felt tears burn her own. Sam's closed again and then opened fully. He blinked up a there then he looked at Dean.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said in a choked voice. "About time you woke up."

Sam frowned and opened his mouth. It looked like he was speaking, but there was no volume to his words.

Dean leaned closer. "Try again, buddy. We can't hear you."

Sam licked his lips and said in a whisper that didn't decrease his obvious certainty. "You're not real."

"No!" Dean gasped. "Sammy, look at me. It's me, Dean, I'm really here."

Sam shook his head ever so slightly as his eyes fell closed again. "Not real."

Dean straightened and turned away from them. His breath came harshly, and Mary knew he was crying. She patted Sam's hand and then stood and walked around the bed to Dean. She touched his shoulder and he sucked in a breath and wiped at his face before looking at her.

"It's okay," she said. "He's just confused. He was awake though. He woke up already. He's going to be okay."

"No, he's not. It's happening again. It's just like last time."

"It's shock," Mary said. "He didn't expect to see us, that's all. When he's awake properly, we can explain."

Dean shook his head. "No. I know this. It's…" He paled. "Sam? Sammy!"

He pushed past her, and Mary spun to see what it was that had scared him. She saw it at once as Dean patted his cheeks and held his hand over Sam's mouth.

He wasn't breathing.

* * *

 **So… That happened. Again. Sorry? Tune in next time for more angst and drama.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	11. Chapter 10

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing and Gredelina1 for supporting and encouraging. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Ten**_

As they walked to the kitchen, Castiel watched Jack in his side vison. He wasn't saying much, but he was smiling widely. Castiel thought that he was proud of his part in what was happening now. At last, he had found something to be truly proud of. Sam was healing because of him, and Mary and Dean were happier, too. That was something Jack could take pleasure in.

He was proud of him, too. Had it not been for him, Sam would be dead without chance of return, as Castiel was powerless to heal injuries from an archangel's blade on his own. Jack had done something incredible, sharing his power so effectively. The instinct for an angel was to hold power, not to share it with another. It was Jack's human side that enabled him to do it, as he had a human's compassion and fight.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

Jack shrugged. "Tired. But I feel good, too. Like I really helped."

"You did. Without you, Sam would be dead. YOU must be exhausted though. That last time you gave me so much. You need to eat and then rest."

"What if Sam needs us?"

"Then I will wake you. But I don't think he will. He is stronger now. The best way you can help is by being as strong as you can be for next time we can heal him."

"Dean spoke to me," he said quietly. "He thanked me. I think he likes me now."

Castiel smiled. He had thought something had passed between them as Jack had come back looking so much happier before, and he hoped Jack had interpreted the situation correctly. If anyone had a right to Dean's affection it was Jack. He had saved Sam and that was everything to Dean. He was also a good person. Perhaps now that Dean wasn't so blinkered by what had happened before, he would build something with him. That would mean everything to Jack, and it would be good for Dean, too.

They reached the kitchen and Castiel walked in ahead of Jack. "Would you like a sandwich, too, or something more substantial?" When there was no response he turned back and saw Jack standing frozen in the doorway. "Jack?"

"Sam!" he gasped.

Castiel brushed past him and set off at a run at the same moment Mary's screams reached him. "Castiel!"

He raced through the halls into the bedrooms and skidded at Sam's door, holding the frame, and rushed inside.

Mary was standing back from the bed, her hands on her face and Castiel's name ripping from her. Dean was with Sam, leaning over him and putting his hands on his chest only to pull them back again with a look of horror. "No, Sam! You can't do this to me! Not again!"

Sam's chest was not moving and his heart was still in his chest. The water-like flow of Sam reaching was absent. There wasn't even a sense of him in the room. He was gone.

Castiel pushed Dean to the side and Dean seemed not to notice. He became aware that Castiel was there only when, reaching for Sam, he touched Castiel's back. "Cas! Help him! I couldn't. His chest."

"I will," Castiel said. Forgetting his limitations, needing only to bring his friend back, Castiel reached for Sam and laid a hand over his forehead and sent his grace into him. It didn't work. He had so little to give and Sam was gone completely. It was more than that even. It was like he was blocking him, too. Castiel just wasn't strong enough. "Jack!" he shouted.

"I'm here," Jack said, appearing at his side. "What can I do? Tell me what to do?" There was desperation in his voice.

Castiel looked at him. He was almost white and his eyes red and wet. He was obviously exhausted. He probably had nothing left to give. But Sam was gone. _He_ had nothing left. They had to try as Castiel couldn't leave him like this another minute as Jack regained his strength, let alone hours.

"Give me what you have," he said. "Dig deep and give me everything you can. It's the only chance we have for him now. We have to save him." There was desperation and panic in his voice. This was Sam. His friend, his family, and he needed him back.

Jack put his hand on his shoulder and he felt the power flooding him. It was the same as when he had taken in the Purgatory souls. It gave him a heady rush of power. It made him strong. How did Jack remain so humble when he had this in him?

He placed his hand on Sam's forehead again, and let Jack's power flow into him and utilized it for his own healing ability. Light poured from his palm into Sam, and he reached for him as he usually reached for him. He found Sam, but it was not easy to pull him back into his body. If there was a real world approximation of what was happening, it was that Sam was kicking and punching to be free.

"No, Sam," he growled. "You will do this. Do you understand me?"

The fight against him weakened and Castiel used the advantage to drag Sam back and into his body. There was a thud behind him as Jack's hand fell from his shoulder, and Sam's white lips parted as he coughed.

Castiel was pushed aside as Mary and Dean crowded Sam's bed, touching and reassuring him and themselves. They were whispering Sam's name with obvious heady relief. Mary was crying but Dean seemed beyond tears.

Castiel moved back and looked for Jack. He was lying on the floor, holding himself up on his elbows. He was almost as pale as Sam, and his eyes were wide and reddened. He was wrecked. Castiel reached for him and helped him to his feet. Jack swayed and then seemed to get his feet under him again.

"Can you walk?" he asked.

Jack nodded. "I'll be fine."

"I'm going to take Jack to his room, and then I will come back," he said. "Watch him. Sam, be strong."

Mary nodded vaguely, her attention still on her son, but Dean didn't even seem to hear him. Castiel placed his hand on Jack's elbow and guided him out of the room on unsteady legs and to his bedroom.

He helped Jack onto the bed and encouraged him to sit back against the headboard. Jack leaned back, but he didn't seem to relax.

"Would you like something to eat now or would you prefer to rest first?" he asked.

"I should eat," Jack said. "I think I burned everything I had. My stomach hurts."

"I'll get you something." Castiel made to leave but Jack caught his hand.

"Can we talk, Castiel?" he asked.

"Of course."

Jack moved over and Castiel sat on the edge of the bed.

It seemed to take Jack a long time to get his thoughts together to ask his question. "What just happened, Castiel?"

Castiel sighed. "Sam's heart failed. I had thought it was a risk with the damage he sustained. We had healed as much of it as we could, but that combined with the damage to the rest of his body was too much."

"Yes, but what happened after. Why was it so hard?"

Castiel had hoped he would not have noticed what he felt trying to bring Sam back. He should have known it was a false hope. He had the same amount of luck as the Winchesters. He didn't want to explain it to Jack though, so he hedged. "I think it was because we were both so tired already. We had so little to give to him that it was harder than before."

Jack tilted his head to the side. "Are you lying to me?"

Castiel frowned. "What makes you think that?"

"Your energy changed and your voice was different."

"You are very perceptive." Castiel was disappointed that he had been uncovered, but impressed by Jack. He had managed to lie to Sam and Dean for months when he had been working with Crowley, but they hadn't realized for a long time, and they were professional liars. Jack was so new to life and yet he saw it.

"Why are you lying?"

"I don't want to upset you," he said. "It is perhaps better than you not know."

"Perhaps, but I feel like I need to know. I was very scared when it happened, and I don't want to let it happen again."

That was fair, Castiel thought. He didn't want Jack to be scared, and he thought the truth would scare him, but he did need to know. He certainly had the right to.

"Sam fought us," he said. "That is why it was so hard."

"He was dead though. How could he fight?"

"Because it was Sam's soul we were fighting with. A soul is the purest energy, and that makes it incredibly powerful. The soul did not want to be returned, so we had to overpower it. I could never have done it alone."

"Sam didn't want to come back?" Jack asked quietly. "Why not? Why wouldn't he want to be with Dean again?"

"I don't know. I am not lying now. I believe something has happened to him. Perhaps he believed he is still in the Cage with Michael. I understand him not wanting to come back if it was to more pain, and even awareness as he felt it now would be incredibly painful with his injuries. We won't know for sure until Sam wakes." He spoke firmly. "Jack, you cannot tell Dean and Mary about this."

"They can't know he didn't want to come back," Jack said thoughtfully. "Because it would hurt them like it hurt us?"

"Exactly."

"But what if it happens again? I don't have anything left now. I won't be able to help."

Castiel had considered the same thing. He was scared Sam would fail and they would be forced to wait until he and Jack had replenished their energy to help him. The hours that would pass would be agonizing to them all.

"We have to hope it doesn't happen and you must rest as much as you can now so you will be ready sooner. Sam must fight alone for a while."

"Do you think he will?"

"I don't know," Castiel said honestly.

"He's not reaching more. I felt it cut off earlier, before the screams, and it hasn't come back. Do you think he is scared again?"

Castiel considered. He would have liked to lie and say that was what it was, but Jack would know. "I think Sam might not be reaching because he feels defeated now and doesn't want to be here," he admitted. "We need him to wake and see that he is home and who is here for him to make him work to stay."

"Okay," Jack said carefully. "I'll rest and I won't tell them anything."

"Good," Castiel said. "I will get you something to eat so you can, and then I will go back to Sam. Come when you're sure you are ready, not before. You need to be at your fullest strength just in case."

"In case we he gives up again?"

Castiel swallowed down the ball of misery in him. "Yes. In case of that."

* * *

Castiel stayed with Jack while he ate, leaving only when he placed his plate on the bedside table and lay down to sleep. He slipped from the room and eased the door closed behind him.

Dean's room was in the first hall and Sam's the second, only a few doors down from Jack. He wondered if Jack's position had been chosen, close to Sam but distanced from Dean, intentionally. He guessed it was, as Dean would surely not have wanted Jack close then, but Sam would have wanted to be within reach if he was needed. That was an aspect of Sam's nature that he appreciated; he was caring and open. Castiel just wished he was so open now when they needed him to be more than ever before.

He knocked on the open door before entering. Sam was the same, pale as a sheet and unmoving, but Mary and Dean seemed calmer now. Mary was sitting on the bed beside Sam, her legs under her and her hand brushing Sam's hair back. Dean was in the hard chair beside the bed, leaning forward with his hands clasped between his knees. Mary looked up at him as he entered, but Dean's eyes remained fixed on his brother.

"How is he?" Castiel asked.

"Can't you tell?" Dean asked tonelessly.

Castiel assessed his friend. His pulse was fast and not as strong as Castiel had hoped. His breathing was shallow as, even in unconsciousness, his body tried to relieve the pain of his injured chest. His color wasn't good, and there was an infection building in the wound on his right shoulder. There was nothing Castiel could do for that yet, but he would make sure to take care of it with his next application of grace.

"He's stable," he said.

"He seems warmer," Mary said, tracing her son's cheek with the back of her hand. "He was so cold before."

Castiel chose not to tell her that the warmth was the lingering grace in him. If she had found something to comfort her and give hope, he would not take it away. They needed all the comfort that they could find.

"We thought that before," Dean said disapprovingly. "Look what happened then."

"Feel him. He is warmer," Mary said.

"He's not awake though," Dean said. "I can't work out if that's a good thing or not anymore."

Castiel frowned and Mary explained. "He was awake, Cas. Only for a few seconds. He spoke even."

"That's good," Castiel said. "He is fighting to come back." At least he had been.

Dean sat up and looked at him. "Yeah, it's awesome. He spoke. He said enough to tell us we weren't real and then he died again. I'm pretty sure that means he's not fighting that hard."

Castiel's heart sank. He didn't believe they were real. It was not that unexpected really, as when he had gone into the Cage, he had believed Dean and Mary to be in the apocalypse world. He had only known Jack was alive still, and he hadn't been there. After what Michael had done, it was not a shock that he would draw that conclusion.

"He looked right at me, Cas, and said I wasn't real. It was just like before."

Castiel remembered the absolute horror of the moment he had found Sam hooked up to the ECT machine, the absolute defeat in his eyes and his exhaustion when he'd said Castiel was not real, just another tortuous byproduct of his ruined mind. Sam had been dying in front of him, and he had been almost completely crippled by the guilt of knowing it was all his fault.

Of course Sam had fought against coming back. He had thought he had lost his mind again. For a man like Sam, with a mind like his, that was one of the worst things that could happen to him, possibly only eclipsed by the loss of his family. He would sooner give up his life than suffer that again.

"We will have to convince him otherwise," he said. "When he wakes, we can talk to him and explain. Dean, you will be able to reach him. You have before."

Dean shrugged. "Once."

"Once is more than either your mother or I have achieved. We must be gentle though. Not force the truth on him."

"Why not?" Mary asked.

Castiel couldn't tell them the truth—that Sam had died and fought not to come back to this world and they could not risk it again, so he lied. "Because he has been through so much we should not stress him more than necessary. We must be gentle."

Mary nodded, appeased, and turned her attention to Sam again, soothing him. Dean looked a little suspicious though, and Castiel was nervous, but the draw to his brother mattered more to him in that moment, and he didn't question.

"I will get you something to eat," he said.

"Thanks, Cas," Mary said distractedly.

Castiel forced a smile as he turned to leave. They did need food, and it was something useful he could do for them, but it was born of selfishness, too. Knowing what he did about Sam, remembering, he needed a little space, too.

* * *

 **So… He's back again. He fought not to be, but he is there again. That counts as a success, right?**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	12. Chapter 11

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing and Gredelina1 for supporting and encouraging. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Eleven**_

Dean didn't know whether to be impatient for Sam to wake or scared that he would. He felt both ways in different stages of the days.

He wanted him awake so that they could deal with the issue of Sam's confusion, make him see that they were real and that there was something waiting for him, people that needed him to be okay: four people now as Dean had accepted that Jack really did care for him and was as eager for him to be well as any of them. At the same time, he wanted him to sleep so he would not go through the shock of seeing them again and perhaps fail.

Castiel was hiding something from them, Dean could tell, and he thought he knew what it was. Sam had died after seeing him and Mary; the shock had been too much for him in his weakened state. They all knew that. But Dean suspected there was more. He thought Sam had perhaps let himself go, not fighting to be with them as he thought he was still with Michael. That was why it was vital that they convince him of the truth as soon as they could, so he would not fail again.

Dean felt like they were walking a tightrope, trying not to lean too hard to one side and fall.

Sam had been healed twice more in the time he had been sleeping. The bandages had been removed from his arms and most of his chest. Only the deepest wounds, the one over his heart and the other on his shoulder were still covered. The ones that were uncovered had become red scars. Castiel said they would fade in time, either because of his and Jack's work, or because of Sam's body's own ability to heal. Dean hoped they healed quickly, as Sam deserved to be able to look in the mirror without seeing the evidence of what had happened to him in the Cage at Michael's hands. In the past Castiel had always been able wipe their scars away, even the handprint he had left on Dean's arm, but this time he couldn't. Michael's power outdid his own on every level.

Jack said Sam wasn't 'reaching' yet, whatever that meant, and Castiel said that when he did he would be closer to waking. Dean could have asked what they meant, but it felt like the moments he wasn't concentrating on his brother were the moments he was at his weakest and most likely to fail. When he did sleep, he woke jarringly, needing to check on Sam at once. When he had to leave the room for any reason, he rushed back, scared of what he would find. He was on tenterhooks all the time, and his nerves were shot.

Mary was lying on the bed with Sam, lightly sleeping while holding Sam's hand. Dean knew it was only light as when he made a noise, clearing his throat or shifting too loudly in his chair, her eyes would snap open and she would look from Sam to Dean, needing reassurance before she would sleep again.

Dean was watching when he saw the change. Sam's breaths, which had been growing stronger with his heart, sped slightly as his eyes rolled beneath their lids. He was suddenly terrified that Sam was waking, and he knew, was more certain than he had ever been in his life, that if he woke, it was going to be terrible for him.

Scared to breathe even but knowing he needed to be the first face Sam saw, he crept to the bed and watched Sam for a sign of his eyes opening. Mary heard the movement and she woke quickly. Her eyes widened when she looked to Sam. "He's waking," she said.

"I know," Dean said quietly.

He knew he should call Castiel and Jack, so that they could help him if he needed it, but he didn't want to raise his voice and prompt Sam into waking properly. Mary had no such hesitance as she called to them loudly.

Dean watched Sam carefully, waiting for him to wake as Castiel and Jack rushed in.

"What's happening?" Jack asked.

"He's waking again," Mary said.

Castiel looked pointedly at Jack. "Be ready."

Jack nodded and placed his hand on Castiel's shoulder.

The fact that he knew what they were preparing for, to save Sam again, scared Dean more than ever, and as Mary patted Sam's cheeks and spoke his name, he croaked, "Stop! It's not time."

"Why not?" Mary asked. "He's ready."

Dean tried to find the words to explain without scaring her, but then Sam changed again. His eyes moved faster, and he frowned. Dean thought he was reacting to what he was hearing, their voices. It had to be confusing for him, to hear Mary and Dean who he thought weren't real, and Castiel who was supposed to be dead.

"Jack," he said. "Come say something to him. He might handle it better if he hears you. You're the only one he would understand being here."

Jack released Castiel and moved closer to the bed beside Mary. Tentatively, he reached for Sam's hand. Mary moved back to give him space and he held Sam's hand and said, "Sam, can you hear me?"

Sam frowned again and his lips pressed into a thin line, but his eyes remained closed.

"It's me, Jack. Are you waking up?"

Sam eyes moved faster and a single tear crept from beneath his lid and trickled down the side of his face.

Jack turned to Castiel and said, "I don't understand. He's still not reaching."

"What does that mean?" Mary asked.

"Everyone has their own energy," Castiel said. "Humans call it an aura. Jack and I can sense them. Sam's is a particularly gentle one. He reaches for people, opens himself to them. Sam isn't doing that right now, and I would expect him to if he is waking."

"So he's not waking?" Dean asked, privately hoping he wasn't, even though he knew the others needed him to.

"I don't think so," Castiel said.

"Then what is happening?" Dean asked.

"Oh." Mary's gaze was fixed on Sam and she seemed to have understood something.

"What, Mom?"

"He's dreaming," she said a little sadly. "He was like this as a baby. I could spend forever watching him sleep, as when he dreamed he was so expressive. It's like this. He isn't waking." She sounded so disappointed that Dean felt guilty about his relief.

"It doesn't look like a good dream," Jack said.

"No, it doesn't" Mary agreed. "But I suppose he has a lot to process now, and that's what happens when we humans dream."

"It is good though," Castiel said. "Sam is dreaming which means he is not as deeply unconscious as he was. We need to wait, have faith and patience. When he is ready to wake, we will know."

Mary nodded looking forlorn, but Dean felt relief. Sam wasn't ready to wake yet, he was sure. He still needed time.

* * *

Over the next two days, Dean changed from wanting Sam to rest to willing him awake.

It was the dreams. He seemed to be having them constantly, and they obviously weren't peaceful. He had seen Sam through plenty of nightmares, both as a child and an adult, and they were usually loud and disturbing. These were silent but no less upsetting as he struggled against something only he could see. He cried, tears slipping from beneath his closed lids, each one feeling like a knife to Dean's heart. He sometimes tried to comfort him, but Mary was the one that seemed untiring in her attempts to help. She would lie and sit with him alternately, holding his hand in sleep, stroking and soothing when awake, and speaking comforting words. She was more of a mother to them now than she had ever been in the last year since her return. A mom to Sam who needed one more than ever before. Though it was sometimes hard for Dean to watch, wishing it was him that had the right words to give Sam what he needed, he also appreciated it for Sam's sake. He only hoped Sam would be able to accept it when he was awake, too. Dean thought he would need it.

Castiel came into the room with Jack who was laden with a tray of coffee and sandwiches. Dean thought he would be sick of sandwiches soon, but they were the quickest and easiest food to eat while they were unwilling to leave Sam's side.

Jack set the tray down on the table and looked to Castiel as the angel cleared his throat.

"I think we can heal some more now," he said. "And I would like to try something else."

"What?" Mary asked.

"I think it's time to wake Sam up. I wanted it to happen naturally, but I think we can all agree Sam is not peaceful now. His energy still isn't reaching; in fact, it is changing. Jack explained it best when he said Sam was like water, flowing and reaching for us, but he is becoming sharp, like ice now. I think for his sake, though he will be upset again, he needs to be awake."

"Will he be in a lot of pain though?" Mary asked. "His other injuries are better, I know, but the one on his chest…"

"Is much better," Castiel said. "The skin over it has almost mended, and though there is still internal healing required, I think he can handle it. We can use painkillers to help him if he needs." He looked from her to Dean. "Jack and I agree this is the best thing to do for him, but I will not do it unless we are all agreed. We have to be united."

"I think we have to," Dean said, pleased by the solution. "If he's changing in his energy, he needs our help and we can't give it properly if he's sleeping."

Mary nodded. "I agree. He needs us."

"Good," Castiel said with obvious satisfaction. "There is something else we need to address though. Sam's reaction was obviously… violent… last time, and we need to do what we can to avoid that again."

"What are you thinking?" Dean asked.

"Perhaps it would be better if you and Mary weren't here when he wakes, leaving Jack with him alone. I can conceal myself to wake him and let Jack speak to him."

As Dean and Mary protested vehemently, he held up a hand.

"I thought you would say that, but I had to try. If you cannot leave, you need to give him space. I know you are both eager for him to see you, but Jack is the only one he can expect to see. If he sees Jack first and lets him explain what has happened, we might be to keep him calm."

Dean and Mary exchanged a glance and Dean nodded. "I can do that." He didn't want to be away from Sam. He wanted him to be the first face he saw, but Jack was the better choice.

"Me too," Mary said. She patted Sam's hand and then climbed off of the bed and walked to the corner. Dean looked once more at Sam and then joined her.

Castiel unzipped Sam's hoodie and Jack stood beside him, hand on his shoulder. Dean had seen them healing Sam many times now, yet the lightshow still impressed him. It was something special to see Jack pouring his power into Castiel and him using it to help Sam. As the light burgeoned, Dean watched, hoping to see more color return to Sam's cheeks or movement.

There was none, but when Castiel unzipped his hoodie and peeled back the dressing on his chest, he saw the skin was knitted together fully now, though there was a deep red scar there. Sam looked better now than he had since they had got him back. Castiel zipped the hoodie closed and then said, "I will conceal myself now. Jack, talk to him. Reassure him and comfort as best you can. Don't throw too much at him at once. Let him take it all in."

Jack nodded. "Okay. I can do that."

"I will be close. If you are worried, feel for me. I will come when the time is right. Dean, Mary, remember that we need to be careful. Give him time."

"Okay," Mary said quietly.

Dean nodded and Castiel patted Jack's shoulder once before disappearing.

They couldn't see what he was doing, but it was obvious when he started as Sam's eyes rolled even faster and opened a slit.

"Sam?" Jack said gently, taking his hand. "It's me."

Sam licked his lips as his eyes opened fully. He looked distant, as if he wasn't all the way awake yet, and he blinked a few times. "Jack?" he whispered.

Jack smiled widely. "Yes. It's me. I'm here. How are you?"

"It hurts."

Dean swallowed hard. He hated to see his brother in pain. Sam had a high pain threshold, a result of his time in the Cage, so for him to be admitting that something hurt meant it was bad. He reached for his mother's hand and squeezed it, and she gripped his hard in return.

"Yes," Jack agreed. "It will. I'm sorry. I wish we could help more, but we're doing everything we can."

Sam frowned. "We?"

"Yes," Jack said carefully. "You have to stay calm Sam, and don't… go away again."

"Who is here?" Sam asked.

Dean was nervous he would look and see them, but his eyes were thankfully fixed on Jack's face.

"We are all here," Jack said. "Do you remember what happened?"

"The rift," Sam said. "The Cage."

"Yes. Before you were taken though, Dean went to save your mother. Do you remember that?"

Sam nodded slightly. "Yeah. He got trapped, too."

"He didn't. Dean found your mom and they both got out. And Castiel..."

Dean shifted uncomfortably. Despite what Castiel had said, Jack was throwing a lot at Sam in one go. He needed time to get accustomed to being awake, time to adjust to the pain, before hearing all this. He couldn't warn Jack though.

"Castiel is dead," Sam said, pain in his voice.

"Not anymore," Jack said. "He came back. Do you remember us talking to you in the Cage, what he said? He was brought back, too. We're all here now. Dean and Mary, me and Castiel. We've all been helping you."

Sam shook his head. "No." It was spoken quietly, not as an argument but as disappointment. "It's not real."

"It is," Jack said emphatically, the furthest thing from gentle now. "Look, they're here."

Sam looked around the room, his eyes passing over the place where Castiel was concealed, and coming to the corner where Mary and Dean lurked. His eyes filled with tears. "Stop, Michael, please," he said imploringly.

Dean understood it, as he had seen it before. Sam didn't see them; he saw a trick from Michael. He knew what he had to do, as he had done it before. Jack hadn't been careful with him, and he would not be either. He would get through to Sam because he had to. Sam needed him; they all did.

He walked out of the corner to Sam, diverting to the desk to pick up a small silver butterfly knife in Sam's pencil pot, one that John had brought him when he started seventh grade.

"Dean," Castiel said in a warning voice, appearing again a little behind Jack.

Dean ignored him. He walked to the bed and sat down beside Sam. He flipped the knife open and held it in up. Sam's eyes followed it, scared but resigned, as if fearing an attack but accepting it.

"Look, Sammy," he said. He lifted his hand and cut across his palm. Blood quickly flowed, dripping down his arm. "Real blood. My blood."

Sam didn't move or pull away, even when Dean picked up his limp hand and held it to his wound.

"Feel it. It's warm. It's real."

Sam didn't react, and Dean knew he had to go further. Ignoring Mary's shouted protest and Castiel's hand on his arm, he cut Sam's palm in the same place and pressed them together.

"Look!" he said. "Feel it. You have seen my blood like I have yours. We have shed this for each other, we have cleaned it away and we've stitched the wounds closed. This is us. Me and you, all this time."

It looked as though there was some understanding coming back to Sam's eyes, and Dean pressed his point home. He gripped Sam's hand tightly enough that it made his wound burn and Sam wince.

"You feel that?" he asked. "That pain is real. If is different to Hell, right? It is not Michael or Lucifer. Just like last time, you have to believe me, believe in us, because I _am_ hereand so are Mom and Cas. We all made it through and now you're back, too. Understand?"

Sam's lips pressed into a thin line as his chin shook as he nodded.

"You believe me?"

"Stone number one," Sam said quietly.

Dean smiled at him, heady relief making him dizzy. "Exactly. Make it me again."

He looked over his shoulder at Mary who was still in the corner. Her eyes were wet and she looked like she was holding herself back from rushing to them. At Dean's encouraging look, she came forward to the other side of the bed and touched Sam's cheek, leaning over him.

"Hey, honey."

Sam's lips parted with a shocked breath and his eyes filled with tears. Mary blinked, and a tear splashed down onto Sam's cheek. She quickly wiped it away for him with a shaking hand. "I'm sorry."

"Mom," Sam said quietly, as his own tears began to fall.

He lifted his head from the pillow as if needing to be closer to her, and Mary bent to kiss his forehead. "I'm here," she said. "You're going to be fine. We're all here."

Sam began to sob, and she soothed him gently, one hand wiping away his tears and the other smoothing his hair.

"I know," she whispered. "But it's over now. You're back, we all are, and we're going to take care of you."

Dean stepped back, feeling his own eyes burning as he watched his brother taking real comfort in his mother for the first time since he was a baby.

* * *

 **So… Finally some awake Sam and Mary comfort. That was a nice scene to write.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	13. Chapter 12

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing and Gredelina1 for supporting and encouraging. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Twelve**_

Sam was sitting up in bed, propped against pillows, with his mother sitting beside him, sharing the pillows and holding his hand. Dean was on a chair on the other side of the bed, and Jack and Castiel stood close.

He felt very much like he was on his sickbed—which he was of course—an idea enhanced by the fact that his chest felt like it was on fire. He did what he could to hide that from the others though, as they had very obviously been through too much already to have more worries added to them.

He felt exhausted for someone that had apparently spent days sleeping. Castiel had explained his injuries and said he was going to need more time and healing to be back to himself. It seemed strange to need healing in stages again as he had after the trials. Castiel said Michael had done as much, if not more, damage than the trials had as the injuries had come from an archangel's blade. He would not have been able to heal him without Jack's help.

Castiel had been hesitant on that explanation though, as if there was something he wasn't telling him still. Sam suspected he had been more than healed with Jack's help. He thought he had been brought back, too. Despite the fact he had suffered 'death' thousands of times in the Cage at Michael's hands, this worried him more as it had been more than him that had suffered. Dean and Mary, Castiel and Jack, had witnessed it and the aftermath. He hated that he had hurt them, and it felt very much like his fault, though he was sure he couldn't have helped it. He remembered nothing from Michael coming at him with the blade to the moment he had woken to Jack's voice, though they said he had been awake before that.

They also told him he had been dreaming a lot, and though he claimed ignorance of what he had dreamed, evidently convincingly enough to fool them all, he was pretty sure he knew what his dreams had involved: the same thing that had plagued him during the long naps he had taken during the day. Michael had found him in his dreams again, picking up where they left off in the Cage.

Sam tried not to think of that now though, knowing he would likely have a reminder in the form of a visit from the archangel when he next slept and there was no need to torture himself while he was awake as well. He returned his full attention to Dean's explanation of how he had found Mary, clearly throwing himself into the tale, his face animated as he said, "The angels can throw these balls of energy or grace or something. It was like a landmine going off. Mom knew it was coming though, and we dodged it."

Sam turned to his mother. "Was it very bad for you there?"

She shook her head quickly, definitely denying him the truth. "It wasn't exactly a vacation, but apart from dealing with Lucifer's bitching, it wasn't so bad in the end. When Michael came, it just became a lot of walking as Michael couldn't trust Lucifer flying with him."

"And the rift found you?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I don't know how," Dean said, "because Jack didn't even know about Mom then, but they were close enough for me to follow their tracks to them."

"I believe he tapped into you, Sam," Castiel said. "You have been so open to him that he could sense your need, even if he didn't know it. You needed Mary, so when the rift opened, it was to her. I imagine if there had been no hesitation before Dean entered, they would have been directly there."

Sam wondered if the Cage had been because of him, too. He had been scared when Dean had gone through, and for him the Cage represented the worst kind of fear. Had Jack tapped into that as well?

"Good thing it wasn't that close," Mary said with a shudder. "I'm not sure how we got away from Lucifer, but if he'd been closer to the rift, he would have thrown himself through it at once. All he cared about was getting back here."

"Yeah," Dean said. "One crazy archangel is enough for us, thanks."

"Is he crazy?" Jack asked.

Sam looked to Mary for an answer. She considered carefully. "I don't think crazy is the right word. Definitely not in the way you say Michael is. He's not stable though. He is dangerous and will do anything in his power to get what he wants."

"And he has a lot of power," Dean said darkly. "We should all be damn grateful he's still trapped."

"How about you, Cas?" Sam asked. "How are you here?"

"I truly don't know," Castiel said. "I remembered being stabbed and then, like you, there is nothing until I woke up again. I was at the house in Washington, and I saw the pyre. I assumed one of you had made a deal of some kind."

"We didn't," Dean said. "We had no idea what to even try. We burned you because we thought it was the only way to give you some peace."

"I appreciate it," Castiel said. "Ultimately it wasn't me that you burned but Jimmy's body, and so it would not have limited me coming back. I would just have taken another vessel. Somehow, whatever brought me back was able to do so without even that."

"Which is awesome," Dean said. "Not sure I could get used to you in anyone but Jimmy."

Sam nodded. Jimmy's body was as much a part of Castiel as anything. He was the one that fit Castiel perfectly. Jimmy had been a good man, and so was Castiel.

"But Mom and Dean, that's down to you, Jack," he said. "That's pretty special. Thank you."

Jack ducked his head and Dean leaned to clap him on the arm. "Yeah, the kid's really been coming through for us lately."

It pleased Sam to see Dean so accepting of Jack, affectionate even. He wished it hadn't taken this to achieve it, but he understood. Jack was obviously pleased, too. Even though his head was bowed, his cheeks lifted with a smile.

"I told you that you were good," Sam went on. "Do you believe me now?"

Jack looked up at him. "I do. At least I know I can be. I'm still sometimes afraid, but I think I am better suited to good than bad because of what I have experienced and learned here."

"It is easier to be bad than it is to be good," Castiel said wisely. "We have all learned that. I think you're more than enough for the challenge though, Jack."

"Thanks," Jack said, sounding genuinely relieved. "I hope so."

"What about Michael?" Sam asked. "What is he doing now? How did you even escape him when he was here?"

"It was Jack," Dean said. "I didn't see all of it because I was… doing something else, but Jack holy fire Molotoved him with his mind."

"Wow, Jack," he breathed.

He was startled. That was incredible power for Jack. He'd known he was supposed to grow to be more powerful than Lucifer himself, but that was something else. Lucifer had killed Castiel with a snap of his fingers. Jack had banished an archangel with his mind. The power he held was incredible. Sam was hugely relieved that they had Castiel there to help him manage it and guide him. He didn't think he and his pencils had done much good in the end.

"As for what's going on now, we're not sure," Dean said. "We've obviously not seen him since. Cas?"

"I don't know. I haven't been as attentive to angel radio as I should perhaps have been lately. With everything that has happened here, that took a backseat. I will pay more attention now though."

"Good," Dean said. "Once Sammy's back on his feet, we'll have to deal with him. He may not be gunning for the world, but a crazy archangel running around is not going to end well."

"Sam," Mary said gently. "Before Michael… hurt you… he called you Lucifer."

Sam nodded. "He had it in his head that was who I was. When the rift to the Cage opened, he felt Jack's power and saw me. I was the last vessel he saw Lucifer in, so he connected the dots and his crazy worked out that I was Lucifer. He thought that God was punishing him, letting him stay in the Cage, because he hadn't killed Lucifer, and he figured that, by breaking me, God would reward him and let him out. I don't know what he's thinking now that he _is_ out. Maybe he thinks he won."

"He's in for a long wait if he thinks God is going to come congratulate him in person," Dean said. "I think one visit was enough for Him."

Sam nodded. "Yeah. He'll work something else out though, some other way of trying to get Him to come back. We need to be careful."

"We will," Dean said, leaning over and patting Sam's free hand. "He failed both times: trying to fight Lucifer _and_ breaking you. You rocked it each time. We'll beat him again."

Sam smiled at him. He'd had a moment upon waking when he'd believed Michael had succeeded in breaking him, when he'd seen Dean and Mary, knowing they should be trapped, but Dean had reached him just like last time, and he knew he wouldn't let himself doubt again. They needed him to see the truth. It was going to be hard, though, he knew, as Michael was surely going to keep his dream visits going. He would use that connection to find out as much as he could about what Michael was planning though so they could outwit him.

Dean was right. The last thing they needed was a crazy archangel in charge.

"How are you feeling, Sam?" Mary asked solicitously. "Do you need to sleep more?" It sounded as though she was reluctant to let him have it if he did. She had obviously had enough of watching him sleep for a while.

"My chest is uncomfortable," Sam said. "But no, I don't need to sleep more. I'm okay."

He was lying, but he thought it had slipped past them. In truth, his chest burned like literal hell and he was exhausted, yet scared to sleep yet for fear of Michael's visits, but he they didn't need to know that.

"You are," Jack agreed. "You're reaching again."

"I'm what?" Sam asked, frowning.

Dean laughed. "Yeah, apparently, you're water, man, and you reach for people. You might want to keep watch of that."

Sam chuckled and it hurt his chest. He rubbed the tender spot. "I'll make sure to do that."

Dean laughed harder and Mary smiled as she rested her head on his shoulder. Sam appreciated her presence, all of theirs, as it felt very safe with them there. It would be later, when he was alone in his dreams that he was worried about now.

* * *

Dean was feeling good as he walked to his bedroom with the intention of actually sleeping there for the first time in days. Sam had fought sleep for a long time, which Dean understood seeing as he'd been sleeping for days and they were finally all awake and together, but his eyes had started closing for longer and longer, and Mary had shepherded them all out of the room so he could sleep. She had been the last to say goodnight to Sam, and Dean imagined how much that exchange would have meant to him. Dean had waited outside the door for her and then walked her to her own room. She'd bid him goodnight at the door with a hug and the reminder that the worst was over now; Sam was okay. He was awake, he had color, and he'd been laughing with them. It was more than Dean could have hoped for.

Though he had told himself Sam was strong, the amount of trauma he knew he had suffered had scared him. When he had woken up and not been able to see that they were really there, that he was back, Dean had been terrified, but they'd broken through that and Sam believed them again. He even said he was okay. He seemed it, too, though obviously in more pain than he was letting on. Dean thought they'd dodged the bullet this time. It was going to work out.

He knew he should shower before going to bed, as it had been days without more than a quick cleanup each morning, but he was exhausted. He hadn't slept apart from snatched hours on a hard chair beside Sam's bed, and he needed real rest. He could start taking care of himself in the morning. He might even shave, though the scruff was definitely more comfortable.

Closing his bedroom door behind him, he kicked off his boots and shucked his jeans and shirt, and then hesitated. Was closing the door a good idea? What if someone needed him? What if it was Sam? He hesitated, holding the handle and then released it with the door still closed. He had to get back to normal, too. Castiel wasn't going to sleep, so if Sam needed any of them he would make sure to let them know.

He pulled back the blanket and climbed into bed, pulling it over him again and punching the pillow into a more comfortable shape. He lay down and let his eyes drift closed. He had thought it would take him a while to fall asleep, wired still though so tired, but his eyes had no sooner closed than he was drifting on sleep, his body finally being offered the rest it needed so badly.

* * *

When he woke, Dean wasn't sure how long he'd been out. He also didn't know what had woken him. He glanced at the clock and saw it had only been a few hours. He sat up and looked around, expecting to see Castiel or maybe Mary there, but the room was empty. He could hear no sounds coming from the hall or other rooms. The only sound was the hum of the old heating system. Something had woken him though. He had a feeling there was something he needed to do, like a forgotten appointment.

He climbed out of bed and pulled on his jeans then padded across the room. His socked feet curled away from the cold floor, but he didn't stop to put on his boots. He felt strongly that he was needed, and he knew who it was that needed him.

He walked out of his room and through to the first hall where Sam's bedroom was. The door was open as they had left it, and Dean heard soft voices inside. He entered and saw his mother and Castiel facing away from him, watching Sam on the bed. Mary was wearing a pair of baggy sweats and a long t-shirt, and Castiel was in his customary trench coat.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel said without looking. Dean wondered if it was an energy thing that enabled him to sense his presence, of if it was just that he knew who would come to Sam when he needed him, as he so obviously did. Looking between them at Sam, he saw that he was shifting restlessly and his eyes were rolling under their lids. His lips were parted and soft moans escaped him. He was either in a lot of pain again, or he was dreaming. Dean supposed it could well be both.

"You couldn't sleep either," Mary guessed.

"I slept some, but I woke up and knew something was wrong. How long's he been like this?"

"A while," Castiel said. "I wasn't sure what to do."

"We were trying to decide," Mary said. "I'm worried about scaring him again if we wake him up. I don't want to make it worse again."

Dean understood that to mean she didn't want Sam so scared that his heart stopped again.

"He's not dreaming good stuff though," he said moving closer to the bed. He noticed that Sam's face and pillow were wet with tears. "We can't leave him like this."

"We can't let him be hurt either," Mary said.

"Is there anything you can do, Cas?"

"I can try to block the cycle, send into a deeper sleep so he won't dream."

"Do it," Dean said, unable to watch Sam suffering like this.

Castiel glanced at Mary and when she nodded, he stepped closer to the bed and reached for Sam's forehead. He touched it gently, and Sam's eyes stilled and his breaths came easier.

Dean watched him a moment and then noticed what was wrong. Tears still slipped from Sam's eyes. "He's still crying."

Castiel frowned. "Yes."

"That doesn't have to mean he's upset now," Mary said. "It's just a bodily reaction. He could still be in pain but not really feeling it."

"He said he was okay," Dean said quietly, disappointment flooding through him.

"He is!" Mary said sternly. "You saw him earlier. He was good. This is just a nightmare and him healing. When Castiel and Jack can do more, it'll be better for him."

Dean nodded. "Yeah." He had been better before, and he was still in pain when he was awake. There was no reason he wouldn't be reacting to that in sleep, too. "I wish we could help though." It felt like it was all on the others. Castiel and Jack were healing him, and Mary was giving him the comfort he needed. Dean had been able to convince him that they were really back, but he couldn't think of anything else he could do for him now.

"I wish I could just hold him like I did when he was a baby," she said. "I used to be able to settle him every time. Both of you."

"Sam needs something different this time," Dean said. "He's in a mess still, and weak, and Sam hates to feel weak. We're all going to have to change how we've been. We've got to make him feel as able as we can."

"You've done this a lot," Mary said sadly.

"More than you know," Dean said. "We should go back to bed. If he finds us here it won't help our cause. Cas can watch him."

Mary nodded and, after giving Sam a searching look, she left the room.

Dean hesitated a moment before following her out, silently imploring Sam to rest.

* * *

Sam was hurting, but it was in a distracted way, as if it was happening outside him not to him. He could hear himself crying out, but he could also hear muffled voices speaking around him, overpowering Michael's. He found when he tried hard, he could focus on them and it made Michael and the pain seem more distant.

It was Castiel and his mother at first, and then Dean joined them. They could see he wasn't sleeping restfully, and it was worrying them. He tried hard to drag himself awake, to get away from Michael and back to them, but it was impossible. He wanted to be awake, to avoid the pain and to reassure them that he really was okay, that they didn't need to worry, but he couldn't. He was trapped.

When Castiel said he could make Sam sleep deeper, taking away the nightmare, Sam felt hope. That was what he needed, and he relied on his friend to do it for him.

Mary and Dean agreed, and Sam felt the shadow of a touch on his forehead with a wave of warm grace. He fell deep, thinking it was his reprieve, but he was wrong. There was a searing pain in his arm and he jerked to awareness, crying out, as Michael withdrew the blade from the newly created wound. Tears spilled down his cheeks and he stared up at the hated angel.

"Ah, you're paying attention at last. I wondered what it would take to get through to you."

Sam looked down at himself and saw that he had been stripped naked and his skin was scattered with wounds.

He tried to drag himself awake, but it was even harder to even try now. What Castiel had done had driven him in deeper, but he hadn't broken the REM cycle. He was still dreaming, and Michael _was_ there, not a nightmare. It felt too real for that.

"What did you do?" Sam asked.

Michael smiled smugly. "I'm glad you asked. I have wanted to tell you for some time. You were too weak to take it in before. I have found you, Sam. I was banished from that… library you were in before, and I didn't get a good fix on the place. It took me time to reach out to you again, and then I found you sleeping, wide open to me."

"You are dream walking."

"I am. I haven't found where you are… yet. I am sure you will tell me in time. But for now I will take advantage of your company."

"What do you want from me?"

"Company, Sam. Yes, I know who you are now. See, I thought when I returned to Heaven, that they would be joyous that Lucifer was dead. They were not though. They were obviously very pleased to see me again, but they told me Lucifer was trapped and Sam Winchester had entered the veil. I understood my mistake at once, though I feel no regret. The time I spent on you in the Cage was well spent. You were the one to drag me to that place, so you were the one that should suffer for it."

"I have suffered. You tortured and killed me thousands upon thousands of times."

"I did," he said with satisfaction. "But it wasn't enough. I want you to suffer as many deaths as I did. For every minute I spent in that place, I died a little more inside, and you will die for them in return. I've not nearly started with you, Sam."

Sam licked his lips nervously. "You won't find me."

"I will, "he said confidently. "It is only a matter of time. And when I do, I will kill you and heal you just to do it all over again until I am satisfied you understand what you did to me. You will never grow old, Sam. You will never have peace. I will freeze your body's aging and avenge myself upon you for millennia. You will know what you did then and truly understand regret."

Sam shuddered. The threat was too great to imagine, there was no place for it in his mind. He had to force it away before it broke him.

"And until I find you," Michael said. "I will continue to visit you here, when you sleep. I may not be able to kill you here, but I can make you hurt. You will break and tell me where you are and how to find that abomination you had with you."

"Jack? What do you want with him?"

Michael laughed harshly. "I want him to do what he is destined to do. I understand my Father's plan now. I believed He wanted me to break Lucifer, but now I see He has greater plans. He told me that He worked though the nephilim to free me again, opening that rift, and now He wants another opened. He wants Lucifer freed from the other world, and He wants us to do battle in His name. What was written will come to pass at last. I will kill Lucifer and you will see the world burn until the paradise we were promised comes to being."

Sam shook his head. "That's not paradise. I went to another world in which you killed Lucifer, and it was Hell. There was nothing like paradise there. Angels were at war with demons, and no one had any peace."

"Another war?" Michael said excitedly, a little manically. "That's even better. I will defeat Lucifer, defeat his demons, and then create a place for angels alone to enjoy."

"You're crazy," Sam whispered.

Michael rammed his sword through Sam's hand and twisted it, making Sam scream in pain.

"I have heard that mentioned among other angels," Michael said. "They're wrong. I am the only sane one because I know what our Father wants from us. I will announce it to the angels, and they will see that I am the only one that understands."

"If you've been to Heaven, you'll know Raphael is dead. How can you be sane if you were talking to him?"

He tutted. "Raphael is not dead. He is in seclusion. I am the only one that knows, as I am the only one he speaks to now. When it is time for the battle, he will stand at my right hand."

"Won't you be too busy killing me to fight another battle?" Sam asked boldly.

"No," he said reassuringly. "You will be the one person left to enjoy the new world with me. I told you that you will last millennia, Sam. I think I need to up it to forever. I will only kill you once a day, perhaps, to draw the experience out for us both. Don't worry though. I have a legion of angels that have a grudge against the Winchesters. They can use you for entertainment in my place." He tapped his chin. "Actually, I might give your brother the honor of living forever, too. He had a part in my descent to the Cage, so it is only right that he suffer, too. If you do something to annoy me, Sam, betray me, even talk when I don't tell you to, I will take him, too."

Sam couldn't take in the threat against him, it was too much, but knowing Dean could possibly be made to feel even one of the deaths he had was unbearable. He threw his head back and howled in unbearable pain.

* * *

 **So… That was a helluva threat from Michael, right? I couldn't think of anything worse for Sam that to have that same fate befall Dean, too.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	14. Chapter 13

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing and Gredelina1 for supporting and encouraging. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.**

 **Sorry I have been unable to reply to each review individually. I'm still with Gredelina1 I read and appreciate them all. Extra thanks to my guest review from Jenn for making my day. I'm so glad you're giving another of my stories a chance.**

 **Sorry for the lack of updates for my other stories. I preloaded my Space Between chapters before I left but forgot to do it for the others and I'm using my tablet so can't upload.**

 **Happy New Year xxx**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Thirteen**_

Sam's own screams were still echoing in his ears when he woke up. He heard a soft sound and looked to see the door moving slightly, as if someone had just brushed past it. He guessed Castiel had stayed all night to watch him. He hoped it had just been Castiel alone. Dean and Mary needed rest as much as he did. They were obviously exhausted, especially Dean.

It didn't trouble him that Castiel had been with him. The others had probably needed the reassurance of knowing someone was with him, and it might even have been safer for Sam to be watched. The only thing that troubled him was the fact that Castiel might have borne witness to more of his nightmare after he'd unintentionally driven Sam deeper into it. He'd rather Castiel and the others believe his intervention had pushed him beyond the ability to dream. That would be better for them all. None of them needed to know what had happened to him.

There was a problem though. How was he going to tell them about Michael and his plans if they didn't know at least part of what he had dreamed? They wouldn't believe it had been something he'd heard in the Cage as it made no sense. They needed to know, but he couldn't bear to tell them what was happening to him in his nightmares. He would have to eventually, but he would let them have a little more peace first. Jack was apparently the crux of Michael's plan, and he was protected in the bunker, and surely powerful against Michael already. It probably wouldn't ever happen anyway.

He eased himself upright on the bed, feeling a little stronger than he had the day before, though internally he was still a little shaky because of what had happened in the night. Dean's fate relied on him if Michael was able to win, so he had to be strong to protect him. He could take what Michael would do to him because that was his job. He had to protect his brother this time.

He considered getting up and changing, but he figured it would be better to wait until he was a little stronger to try. Ending up on the floor wouldn't do him any good.

There was a knock on the open door and Sam saw Jack smiling tentatively at him. "Hey."

"Hey, Jack," Sam said, pleased to see him. He'd wanted a moment to talk to him alone.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure." Sam moved himself a little higher up the bed and gestured to the chair that Dean had apparently claimed.

Jack came in and sat down. "Mary and Dean are still sleeping," he explained. "And Castiel has gone to make us all a 'proper' breakfast."

"That should be interesting," Sam said. "I thought it was quite the achievement when Cas learned how to make coffee."

"He makes good sandwiches. He has been taking care of us all."

Sam smiled. "I bet."

"You look much better," he said. "It was hard to see you like that before."

"Sorry," Sam said. "I feel it. I am better. Really. I owe that to you and Castiel. You've been amazing."

He grinned. "I was glad I could do something to help. I have a lot to make up for."

Sam shook his head. "You've already done more than enough to make up for what was a mistake. You got my mom and Dean back, you got me back, and you dealt with Michael for us."

"Yeah, I got you all back, but I'm also the reason you were trapped there."

"That was a mistake. We've all made them. Me especially. I understand wanting to make things right though, and you've done that. You have to let it go, Jack, or it'll eat you up. I know that from experience. I said you were good, didn't I? And you have proved you are. Even Dean sees that now."

Jack nodded. "I think he does. We talked about it. He isn't so angry now." He bit his lip. "It was very bad before you were back."

"I'm sorry about that. That's just the way Dean is sometimes."

"That's what Mary said."

"She was right." He sighed. "I owe you an apology, too, Jack. I should have told you about my mom and what I needed you to do. I don't know why I didn't. I think there's too much of my dad in me sometimes. He liked to keep secrets, too." He remembered some of the secrets John had kept, the very worst being Sam's fate, and he shuddered. That had been something Sam should have known from the beginning. It would have helped him prepare for what happened.

"Are you okay?" Jack asked.

"Fine," Sam said quickly. "Just thinking."

"Your energy is wrong. It's closed again."

"It's what I was thinking about is all. It'll pass."

"No, it was wrong before that. You're not reaching again."

Sam was sure he knew why that was happening, but he couldn't explain it to Jack. "It's probably just the pain," he said. "It's making me feel kinda vulnerable. It'll pass."

Jack seemed appeased. "I think we will be able to heal you more when Castiel is here. I am stronger again."

"Don't tell my mom and Dean what I've said though. I don't want them to worry. It won't be for long if you're going to heal more anyway."

Obviously eager to please, Jack nodded. "Okay. I won't tell them."

"Thanks, Jack, for everything. I really do appreciate it."

"It what friends do, right?" he asked.

"It is. It's also what family does. You're family now, too."

Jack ducked his head. "Thank you, Sam," he said in a slightly hoarse voice.

Sam smiled. Jack was family. He had given everything for them, and he had saved their lives. That was a defining characteristic of their family.

* * *

Dean met Mary in the hall and they walked to Sam's room together.

Dean was pleased to see that Sam was sitting up again, leaning against the headboard without needing the pillows to prop him up this time. Jack was sitting on the chair beside the bed, and they looked like they had been deep in conversation. Jack looked a little leaky around the eyes, and Dean wondered what they had been talking about. He guessed Sam had been making his thankful speech at last, with full on soppy eyes to give it impact. Sam didn't seem able to have any serious conversation without them. Dean had missed it.

"Morning," Dean said.

Sam smiled. "Hey."

"How are you feeling?" Mary asked, obviously concerned.

"Better today."

Dean appraised him and saw that he did look better. His cheeks had more color and he seemed stronger as he sat up. It was a massive improvement over what he had looked like last night. "How's the pain?" he asked.

"Not so bad now," Sam said.

Dean wanted to believe him, but Jack was avoiding his eyes as Sam answered, and he guessed that Jack had a little inside information. He wasn't overly worried though. Sam playing down pain was normal. It was probably even a good sign; if he was downplaying it, he was handling it better than he had the day before.

"I should go help Castiel," Jack said, getting to his feet. "He's making breakfast."

"That should be interesting," Dean said. Castiel wasn't exactly a culinary genius. He had done well keeping them fed with sandwiches, but Dean wasn't sure what else he could do that didn't involve a microwave. He wouldn't be surprised if he arrived with bowls of cereal.

As Jack walked from the room, Dean took the vacant chair. He could see Mary's struggle. She obviously wanted to sit close to Sam again, but he was in the middle of the bed now and she would not be able to sit with him without being much closer than before. Dean knew she was thinking of what he had said about letting Sam be strong, and so was pleased when she sat on the end of the bed with her legs folded in front of her.

Dean had a problem of his own. He needed to know what Sam had been dreaming about, but he didn't want to reveal that they had visited in the night or to push Sam too hard. It had clearly been a nightmare, so making him explain it would bring it all to mind. He came at the question in a roundabout way. "You sleep okay?"

"Yeah, really well," Sam said. "I think I was still pretty exhausted; I seemed to crash hard and deep."

Dean smiled. Sam didn't remember. That was the best outcome he could have hoped for. Maybe Castiel breaking the cycle had erased the dream from his mind. He would have to ask Castiel to keep an eye on him and if it looked like he was having another nightmare to block it again.

"That's good," Mary said, relieved. "You need rest."

Sam didn't argue which made Dean think he was at least vaguely aware of how bad it had been for him.

They fell into conversation of what Castiel's breakfast offerings were going to be, Sam laughing at the options they proposed, only stopping when Castiel arrived with a large tray in his hands. Jack was behind him with a tray of coffee. They set them down on the desk and Dean saw that Castiel's held a platter of pancakes. Surprised, Dean was about to ask when Castiel had learned to cook, but he spoke first.

"I think we can heal a little more now, Sam. It will make you more comfortable before you eat."

Sam nodded. "Okay, sure."

Castiel and Jack moved to the bed, and with Jack's arm on his shoulder, Castiel reached for Sam. There was the now familiar lightshow and Sam hissed between his teeth as Castiel pulled back.

"How does it feel?" Castiel asked.

"Give me a minute." Sam rubbed his chest for a moment and then nodded "Better. Much better. Thanks."

Castiel smiled and went back to the desk to hand out the plates of pancakes Jack was dishing out. He gave one to Sam and he grimaced. "We don't have to eat in here. We can go to the kitchen, or library at least."

"Not yet," Dean said. "You've barely been awake for a day. Maybe tomorrow."

Sam's face fell and Mary narrowed her eyes at Dean. He was pretty sure he knew what she was thinking. He had been the one to say they needed to let Sam be strong, but there was letting him try and letting him faceplant. He needed to feel strong, and falling wasn't going to help that. If he really needed to get out of the room for a while, Dean would get him a wheelchair. He was sure the Men of Letters would have one; they had everything else. It was on the tip of his tongue to offer it, but Sam shook his head and said. "Okay. No worries." He was clearly disappointed, but Dean wouldn't help to set him up to fail.

Castiel handed him a plate of pancakes and a fork and gave him a disapproving look.

Dean took a bite to give himself something else to concentrate on, and was surprised that they were actually really good. "Damn, Cas, when did you learn to cook?" he asked.

"You're forgetting I was a human for months, Dean, and a sales associate. I leaned many things."

Dean frowned. "I thought you were limited to microwaving burritos."

Castiel looked abashed. "Yes."

"Really, how did you learn?" Sam asked.

Dean thought he would have ignored the question from anyone else, but as it was Sam, he answered. "I watched cooking shows. There was little else to do but monitor for threats when Kelly was sleeping. And when she was awake, we watched them together. I wanted to make good, healthy food for her."

Jack looked surprised at the answer, but also pleased. Dean guessed there hadn't been much mentioned about his mother from Castiel. It was understandable with everything else that had been happening, but Dean remembered how much little nuggets of information that he didn't know about his mother had meant to him when John would slip them out—usually when he had been drinking. It had to feel the same for Jack.

It amused him to think of Castiel watching Paula Deen all night. He tried not to laugh, but he couldn't help but smile, especially when Sam cast him a knowing glance, apparently forgiving Dean his refusal already.

They ate in companionable silence, Castiel looking satisfied as he watched them enjoy his creations. It was only when they had all finished and the plates were stacked, Sam's meal only half-eaten, that he spoke again. "There is something we need to talk about."

Dean frowned. "What going on, Cas?"

"I heard something this morning on angel radio. Michael made what I suppose counts as a declaration."

Sam paled and his hands fisted in the blankets. Dean wasn't sure if it was the mention of Michael alone or if he was anticipating what the declaration could be. Dean definitely was. But Sam's reaction made him wish Castiel had chosen to talk to him alone so that he could have judged when Sam would be ready to hear whatever it was. He realized that didn't exactly follow the theme of letting him be strong that Dean had prescribed just the previous night, but it was the better thing for him. He could only feel strong when he actually was strong, and this reaction was going to take that feeling away with everyone seeing it.

"What did he say?" Sam asked quietly.

"He has a new mission and belief. He is insane, which was very obvious in some of the things he said and the way he would drift off track, but he believes he has God's approval for this, His desire even, and I think–"

"Spit it out, Cas!" Dean said harshly. He needed to hear it and Sam clearly needed to get it over with as well.

"He wants to resume the apocalypse," Castiel said apologetically. "He believes that he was freed from the Cage by God to do what he was destined to do. He said he learned his lesson from before."

Sam nodded. "He thought I was Lucifer and he was supposed to break me so that God would set him free. He talked about it a lot. I guess he knows better now."

"Yes," Castiel said. "He is aware of where Lucifer is and has made it his mission to free him so that he can accomplish what he believes is God's will."

"Can he do it?" Mary asked. "Get Lucifer back I mean. Is it possible?" She sounded scared, and Dean realized that Sam wasn't the only one that had suffered by Lucifer. She had been there to see the chaos of the last year, and she had been dragged into the apocalypse world by him. She knew just how dangerous he was.

"Not for him alone," Castiel said. "He doesn't have that power."

"But I do," Jack said quietly. "That's what he wants isn't it?"

Castiel nodded somberly. "His plan is to utilize you to open another rift into that world, yes."

Jack winced. "And if he does it, will he win a fight with Lucifer?"

"Yes," Mary answered before Castiel could speak. "In the world I was in, Michael had beaten him. It was a kind of nightmare world though, even though Lucifer was dead. Angels and demons were at war. I can't think of words to describe what it was like."

Dean and Sam nodded. They had seen it for themselves. It was a ravaged wasteland that was like something out of a dystopian young adult novel. That was what would become of the world if the battle was fought.

"We can't let that happen," Jack said. "What can I do?" He bit his lip. "Can I die? Would that stop him using me?"

"No!" Sam said loudly. "You're not dying!"

"But if it's the only way," Jack said.

"No," Sam said again. "We're not doing that. You're not dying."

Dean thought Sam more than anyone should understand Jack's thinking. He had taken Lucifer to the Cage to save the world, knowing he was going to suffer eternal agony for it. Jack was willing to do the same with less to lose. He didn't want Jack to die either, but he did understand the thoughts that had led him there, as he had seen Sam through it before.

"We can't kill you, Jack," Castiel said gently. "Even if it was an option any of us would even consider, it's impossible. None of us would be physically or any other way capable of killing you. You're so much stronger than any of us."

Jack sighed. "Then what do we do?"

"We rely on your strength," Castiel said. "You banished Michael once before, and you can do it again if forced to. That is only if you were to come into contact with him. This bunker is the safest place in the world. We can protect you if you stay here."

Sam nodded, looking pleased. "Yeah. That's it. We'll find another way to take Michael out, not you, and until then, you stay here."

Jack frowned. "How will you 'take him out'?"

"We'll find a way," Sam said. "We always do in the end. We have faced more than you even know, and we've been the ones to come out on top. We've suffered for it, but we have won when it mattered. This is just another challenge."

Jack looked unsure and Dean said, "Sam's right. We have faced a lot, and we did win. I told you before: our luck might be in the pits, but it is usually us that suffer for it."

"I don't want you to suffer," Jack said.

"Then be strong," Dean said. "Keep yourself safe from Michael, and help us with the rest."

"Okay. I can do that," Jack said.

Sam smiled. "Yeah. You can." He looked relieved now, happy even, as though a weight was off of him instead of having it added.

Dena was relieved, too. They were talking about another apocalypse, the possibility of Lucifer returning, and Sam was handling it, helping Jack even. Dean wouldn't have believed it was possible after all he'd been through. He was obviously tired and his color wasn't quite back to normal, but it was better. He was healing still, and soon he would be properly back to himself. Then they would be able to come together and work out a solution to the Michael problem. Even if the world hadn't been at stake, Dean would want to take him out anyway for what he had done to Sam.

They all owed him.

* * *

 **So… Michael has big plans and now they all know them. At least now they can be prepared.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	15. Chapter 14

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing and Gredelina1 for supporting and encouraging. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Fourteen**_

For something that was supposed to make him feel better, healing hurt. The wounds knitted together again and skin grew, but it was a painful process, especially when done in small stages as Sam's was and with limited power. Castiel could utilize what Jack gave him, but it was a fight of him against Michael power. It took time and, in Sam's case, pain.

Castiel pulled back from him and Sam felt the burn in the center of his chest receding. He rubbed at the spot and took a breath that seemed easier than it had been for a while.

"How do you feel?" Castiel asked.

"It's much better," Sam said, and this time it was an evasion, not a lie. His wound did feel better. It was the rest of him that posed a problem to him now.

"Good. You will only need one or two more applications now," Castiel said. "You are almost completely well. You have done well."

"I think the credit for that goes to you and Jack," he said.

"You did your part. Your body has done some of the work, and your own fight has helped."

Sam thought that 'fight' was a byproduct of what else he had been doing. He was fighting on an hour-by-hour basis to get through each day with his real weakness undetected.

"Thanks, guys," he said, pushing his hair back from his face and smiling. "I appreciate it."

"We all do," Dean said, coming into the bedroom. "Healing done? Mom's made eggs. You coming?"

"Yeah." Sam pulled his boots over to him and put them on. It hurt a little to bend for the laces, especially after the latest healing, but he hid any sign of it. He stood and clapped Jack on the shoulder. "Hungry?"

"Yeah," Jack said.

Sam smiled. The kid had a voracious appetite. He didn't need much sleep, but he ate more than even Sam did. Sam thought it was mostly due to enjoyment. He liked to eat—especially Mary's cooking. Sam thought it was partially having a mom cooking for him. Even though they weren't related by blood, Mary had accepted Jack as family and she took care of him. Jack obviously loved it, as he did her.

The difference in Mary as she was now compared to the previous year was immense. She had been Sam's mother before as that was all he had known, but she felt like a mom now, too. She was what he had always hoped and believed she would be. He had seen a glimpse of her in Dean's heaven, but now he was experiencing it himself and it was more than words. It helped him cope.

They wandered through to the kitchen together in time to see Mary place a bowl of scrambled eggs on the table along with a platter of sausage. Dean threw himself into a chair and reached for it, but Mary slapped his hand. "At least wait for us all to be sitting down," she said.

Dean sighed then laughed as Jack pushed back chairs for them all with a wave of his hand. He was proud of his talent, and Sam liked to see him using it. They said it had been the first thing he leaned in his mission to save Sam.

They sat down and, at Mary's nod, Dean fell upon the sausages like he hadn't eaten in a week. Mary smiled fondly as she poured coffee for them all. When Dean's plate was heaped, Sam pulled over the platter and began to spoon eggs onto his, Mary's, and Jack's plates as Jack added sausages.

"Thanks, Mom," Sam said after taking his first bite. "This is good."

This was easier. Being with them all and distracting himself from how he had spent the night helped. It had been a particularly rough night, and having his family around him was a good balm to it.

They all seemed to be rough nights now. Michael wasn't tiring of what he was doing; if anything he seemed more determined to make Sam feel every single type of torment he could devise. And Sam had to bear it without a word of pleading for mercy or cry of pain. The only response that was allowed was to the question of where Jack was, and Sam told him each time that Jack had left them so he didn't know. Michael was firm about his being quiet, and Sam couldn't break it for fear of dragging Dean into his torment. Michael seemed to find as much enjoyment in his silent suffering as Lucifer had with Sam's screams. The two archangels were equally twisted and cruel. Sam was getting through the nights as best as he could, hiding his torment from the people he loved. He dealt with it by sleeping as little as he could and using pep pills to keep sleep at bay during the day. He had always a stash of pills in his duffel for nights on a case in which sleep was an unwanted interruption, and he took them when he needed to. When they failed, he would crash in bed, and then Castiel would come and shove him down deeper into the dream. He was doing it at Dean and Mary's instruction in an attempt to help him defeat the nightmares he pretended not to know about, but sometimes Sam wished he could tell Castiel to stop. He couldn't trust him not to tell the others though, so he suffered.

He was running low on the pep pills though, and he'd already raided Dean's stash as much as he dared, so he needed to figure out a way to get more. That was going to be complicated however, since none of them seemed to want to leave him alone for any length of time. He had enough left for maybe a few more days, but then he was going to have to either demand space so he could go to buy some more—upsetting them—or he would have to go without. The thought of going without scared him.

He ate another bite of breakfast, smiling at Dean's joke, and pretended to cope. That was what he could do for them.

* * *

Sam's hands shook as he turned the page of the book on angel lore he was reading. He quickly tucked his hand in his lap to hide it and read down the page.

They were trying to find something for Michael, but Sam wasn't hopeful he'd find an answer in the books. It was something to do at least other than obsess over what was happening at night. He was completely healed now, Castiel had given him his last application of grace that morning, and while he was physically well again, he was still not right. Unless he concentrated on not letting them, his hands shook. His eyes were sometimes blurry and his heart rate felt too fast. It wasn't sleep deprivation exactly, as Castiel ensured he slept enough hours in a night, it was the lack of proper restful sleep his body needed as his dreams were torture.

He knew he was going to have to do something about it soon, as he had been here before. This was how it had happened with Lucifer; these comparatively mild but difficult symptoms were how he had started last time. Unless something changed, he was going to end up in a locked ward again, or dead, depending on whichever defeated him first—his mind or his body. He was living on a knife edge and it was impossible.

Dean came into the library with six-pack. He set it down on the table and handed the bottles out. Jack and Mary twisted off the caps of their own but Sam set his carefully on the table and went back to the laptop.

"Hey, Cas, I was thinking," Dean said. "Gadreel killed himself, right?"

"Yes. He was breaking me free from the cell. And atoning."

Dean shrugged off the mention of atoning and asked, "But he used a piece of the wall or something."

"Yes, a piece of Heaven."

"Would that work again?" Dean asked. "On Michael."

Sam looked at Castiel, expectantly awaiting an answer as Castiel looked thoughtful.

"Perhaps," Castiel said. "A piece of Heaven is more powerful than even an archangel's blade, as it is God's true creation. Our blades are an extension of our grace. Technically we create them ourselves. We would need to find the piece though, which means entering the jail and getting out again without notice. Michael knows I am alive and a part of our opposition, so it would be complicated to do. I don't know how many angels are loyal to him now. They could betray my presence to him if I went."

"And that would get you killed?" Mary asked.

Castiel nodded.

Dean sighed. "Okay. That's out then. It was just an idea."

"I could try," Castiel said. "I am willing."

Sam smiled sadly. "You always are, Cas, but we're not risking it. We'll find another way." He slammed the book closed and got to his feet. "I'm going to make a run to the store. Anyone need anything?"

Dean frowned. "I just got back from the store. Why didn't you tell me you needed something?"

"Because your idea of being healthy is light beer, and you moan about that even. I need some real food for a change."

"Burgers are real," Dean said.

"I need real food that grew from the ground," Sam said. "I won't be long. Keys?"

He could see Dean's internal struggle, wanting to give Sam the freedom he'd requested, but also wanting to stay close to him to make sure he was okay. He had been better about giving him a little bit of space lately, clearly trying to help Sam, and when he handed Sam the keys, he was pleased but not surprised.

"Anyone need anything?" he asked.

"Double up on the fruit," Mary said. "I should probably have some, too."

Sam nodded and walked out of the room and toward the garage. When he had his hand on the Impala, safe and reassuring, he allowed himself to relax the hold he had on himself a little. He took a shaky breath and wiped a hand over his face. It was still hours until he would have to sleep again. He could handle this.

* * *

Mary watched her son leave, seeing the keys swinging from his clenched hand and the slight jerkiness in his steps. "Something is wrong with him," she said.

"Yes," Castiel agreed quickly.

Dean raked a hand over his face. "You think it's Michael? He's hitting the books hard to find a way to deal with him, and did you see how he looked when I asked Cas about using a piece of heaven as a weapon?"

Mary nodded. She had noticed his eagerness, need almost, and she'd thought the same. "It must be hard for him knowing that he's out there, especially knowing what he's planning. We just managed to get rid of Lucifer and now Michael has taken his place. He's even trying to bring Lucifer back. How is he supposed to deal with that?"

"He can't," Dean said. "Damn."

"He's hiding something, too," Castiel said. "Something more than fear. It's almost like he is still ill, but I can sense nothing from his body but an increased heart rate."

"What's his energy doing?" Dean asked.

"He's not reaching," Jack said. "He feels the same, water, but it's still now. It happened so slowly I didn't notice until now, but it's like he's closing himself off."

"Dean? Cas?" Mary said. "You've seen him through more than we have. What do you think is happening to him?" She hated that she didn't have an answer herself. She was his mother; she should know. Though it was through no fault of her own, she had missed those years of his life because she was dead, it didn't make it easier to bear.

"It's not guilt," Castiel said. "We saw him through all that in the year of the apocalypse, and this feels different. He didn't close off then. He reached harder than ever, needing forgiveness. It is not like Ruby either. That felt very different."

Dean took a swig of his beer as he considered. "I don't know anything about reaching, but it is familiar. After you disappeared, Cas, when Lucifer was paying visits in his head before it got really bad, it was a little like this. Worse maybe, but then there was also all the trouble with the Leviathans and Bobby dying to deal with. He was jumpy though, and when the sleep thing kicked in, he was a little like this."

"But he is sleeping," Mary said. "Better than us even, with Castiel helping him every night. His nightmares barely last a minute once they start, do they Cas?"

"No. Almost as soon as he is dreaming, I break them. He is rested."

"But he is hiding something," Dean said. "I think it's time we knew what." He put down his beer and got to his feet. "I'm going to find out."

He walked out of the room and Mary followed him through the halls to Sam's bedroom.

"What do you think you'll find?" Mary asked.

"No idea," Dean said. "Sam isn't a teenage girl, so we're not going to find anything in a diary, but there might be something." He opened Sam's drawers, revealing neatly folded clothes. His washbag was on the dresser and Dean opened it and rooted inside.

It felt wrong to Mary to be doing this, but she needed to know what was wrong with her son. She couldn't help him otherwise. If Dean thought invading Sam's privacy was going to yield answers, he was probably right. He knew Sam better than she ever had or would have a chance to. Their bond had been created by years of living and fighting together. She would never be able to understand them exactly the same way because she had not lived through it with them.

She was trying though. She knew she'd failed them when she first came back, leaving them and working with Ketch, but she was doing what she could to make that up to them now. Finding what was wrong with Sam and helping him was a good first step in that.

Dean put down the wash bag and looked around. He checked the drawer of the bedside cabinet and then reached under the bed, pulling out Sam's khaki duffel he used when hunting. He set in on the bed and sorted through the spare clothes, reaching right into the bottom.

"Yahtzee," he said, extracting his hand with a large white bottle in it.

He turned it and Mary moved closer to see the label. "No-Doz?" she read aloud.

"It's empty," Dean said harshly. "He's dosing himself with caffeine pills to hold off sleep."

"Why would he need them?" Mary asked.

"Because he's not 'rested' at all." Dean kicked the bed and swore loudly. "He's fried."

Gripping the bottle tightly in his hand, he marched from the room and Mary went after him. He was angry and she wasn't sure quite how to deal with him like this. She couldn't talk him down or make him focus, because she didn't understand what exactly it was that had made him so angry. Sam using pep pills didn't seem so bad if he needed a little energy.

Dean marched into the library and approached Castiel as he stood from his chair swiftly and said, "What's wrong?"

"Are you helping him every night like you told us?" Dean asked.

"Yes. I wouldn't lie about this," he said. "What's happened?"

"Sam's dosing himself with caffeine," Dean said. "So he's either not sleeping, or he's not wanting to sleep."

The dreams. Mary fell into a chair and covered her face with her hands. Castiel's 'help' wasn't working, which meant whatever Sam was dreaming was still happening every night. And the dreams had been nightmares. They had seen that in his reactions the first night. He was suffering every night Castiel saw him dream.

"Why didn't we know?" she asked.

"Because the idiot didn't tell us," Dean said. "He's burned through these, and I bet the Impala he'll slip another bottle in with his bananas at the store."

"But why wouldn't he tell us?" Mary asked.

She couldn't understand why he would have hidden this from them. They had all been doing so much better lately. They'd been working together and being open, and she'd thought he was doing the same. How could he have hidden something like this from them?

"Because he's Sam," Dean said. "I thought we were past this, after the Mark and the trials, I thought we'd reach a place we could be honest with each other. Obviously, I was wrong. Damn him!"

"Calm down, Dean," Mary said. "If Sam is hiding this from us, he has a reason, and we need to know what it is before we try to tackle this. We need to be careful or he won't tell us anything at all."

Dean took a breath. "Yeah. I know. It's just… I am so damn pissed. All this time I've been thinking he's doing good, and he's been hiding this from us. We have no idea what these nightmares are. He could be suffering anything, and we wouldn't know. And he's been intentionally keeping himself awake; he knows better than that after what happened last time."

"It wouldn't have happened again, Dean," Castiel said. "With my assistance, he would be incapable of reaching that point again."

"Know that for a fact, do you?" Dean asked. "We need more than just to be asleep. There are kinds of sleep we need, and if Sam isn't getting that, he's going to get sick. Hell, we don't even know what kind of sleep it is he has when you're trying to block the dreams. We could have been damaging him this whole time and not even realizing."

Castiel looked stricken. "I didn't know! I put him into a deep sleep, beyond dreams. I am not blocking nightmares, I am putting him beyond them."

Dean swore. "And that's not everything he needs. That'll keep him alive, yeah, but it won't help his mind. That doctor told me all about it last time." He raked his hands through his hair. "We' are the ones that have done this to him."

Mary's heart ached. She had wanted to help him. They hadn't been able to see him suffering the nightmares. Why didn't she know this already? It was the kind of thing she should have known. She could kill a ghoul, decapitate a vampire and exorcise a demon, but she didn't know what it took to take care of her children. What kind of mother was she? She thought she was doing well, now, better, but she was failing him completely.

What had she done?

* * *

 **So… Sam's been rumbled. Poor guy. It's time for a big conversation now.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	16. Chapter 15

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing and Gredelina1 for supporting and encouraging. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Fifteen**_

Though the trip to the store had been a trial of loud noises and people, Sam was smiling as he walked back through the halls to the library. He had bought what he needed, he'd handled it, and he'd already dosed himself with the pep pills, so he felt better, more energized. He was actually looking forward to getting back to the library to his family and working on the Michael problem. Though his hands still shook a little, he was okay, and he figured he could relax for the remaining hours until he was forced to sleep again.

He pushed open the door into the library and saw Jack and Mary sitting at the table while Dean and Castiel stood. There was tension in the air that he didn't understand.

"Hey," he said. "Everything okay?"

Dean walked towards him and took the grocery sack from his arms without a word.

"I can manage," Sam said a little irritably.

Dean carried it to the table and set it down. Sam followed, taking in their expressions properly as he approached. Mary looked as though she'd been crying, and Castiel was somber, while Jack looked a little confused but worried. It was Dean that caught his attention though, as he looked angry.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"You," Dean said stonily.

"Dean," Mary said disapprovingly. "Take it easy."

"What have I done?" Sam asked, confused. He couldn't think of anything he'd done to elicit this reaction. There was nothing he was ashamed of. He'd been doing well.

Dean grabbed the grocery bag and tipped it. Sam grabbed for it, wanting to stop him, but it was too late. His heart sank as the contents spilled onto the table. The apples came out of their plastic bag and rolled onto the floor, their skins bruising with the impact. They were no good for eating now. Sam would have to bake with them. He'd been looking forward to them, too.

He bent to pick them up and placed them back in their bag, avoiding Dean's eye. The tension in the room seemed to have risen palpably. He wanted to get away from this. He suddenly felt as vulnerable as he did in dreams, and he almost expected the pain to start.

There was no pain, but there was a rattle as Dean shook one of the bottles of No-Doz he'd bought. "This is the problem, Sam."

Sam forced himself to look at his brother, and he saw his angry expression. There was worry in his eyes though, and that felt almost worse to Sam. He had hidden all this so as not to worry them. He didn't know how much they knew, so he evaded.

"It's caffeine, Dean. We use it all the time. I noticed I was getting low, so I bought some more. That's all."

Dean shook his head as he reached into the bag and brought out the second bottle, the one with the broken seal.

"I figured you'd be low, too, so I bought two. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"

Dean looked to Mary. "This one's open. He couldn't even wait to get back for them. Still think I should take it easy?"

"Yes," she said, getting to her feet. She walked to Sam and put an arm around his back. "Come sit down, honey. We need to talk."

"I don't need to sit," Sam said. "I need to get this stuff into the fridge. I bought yogurt and it's going to spoil." He moved away from his mother and started to pick up the groceries and put them back into the bag.

Dean snatched the bag away from him. "You couldn't even wait to get home before you took them?"

Sam sighed. "It's caffeine, Dean. It's not like I'm on drugs. You drink more beer than I do coffee, but I don't give you a hard time about it. Why are you making such a big deal about it?"

"Because it's why you're doing it," Dean said. "And because you're lying about it." His voice rose and it seemed to sear though Sam's mind the way Michael's did when it boomed at him with his full power. "You're lying to me again."

"Not lying," Sam said quietly, backing a few steps away from him. "I just didn't tell you."

"It's the same damn thing!" Dean shouted.

The words echoed in his mind and he wanted to flee. He associated this feeling with Michael, and he didn't want more pain. Not from Dean. He needed Dean to be his brother. His hand shook as he pushed his hair back from his face.

"Look at you!" Dean said. "You're a mess. You're popping pills to stay awake. Do you remember how it ended last time you weren't sleeping?"

"I remember," he whispered

"Do you want to die?"

"No!"

"Then why are you doing this, hiding it from us? I have seen you die twice in the last month, Sam, and I have seen you trapped in the Cage. Why would you risk yourself again after that?"

So he _had_ died. Twice even. He had suspected, and he understood now why Dean was so worried, but it was just pep pills and some trouble sleeping as far as they knew. They didn't know the half of it, the threat that was hanging over Dean, and he was reacting like this. How was he supposed to be open with them?

"I'm not going to die," he said quietly. "I'll be fine."

"Will you?" Castiel asked. "Because it was Jack and I that brought you back both times, and the second time we had to fight you to do it."

"You had to what?" Dean growled.

Castiel shook his head quickly, seeming to realize he had said too much. Jack looked stunned and Mary devastated, but it was Dean's fisted hands and flushed cheeks that scared him.

"We had to fight with him because he didn't want to come back," Jack explained quietly.

"Why, Sam?" Mary asked.

"I don't know," he said quickly. "I didn't know for sure I'd died until now. I don't remember what happened either time. I was dead, so I can't have had much of a choice in it."

"You can," Jack said. "Castiel said that a soul is…" He trailed off as Castiel laid a hand on his arm.

Sam shook his head. "I really don't know what happened, but you're making a big deal out of this and it isn't. Sleeping is a problem. That's all. I'm not hurting myself, and I definitely don't want to die. I'm just finding it a little hard is all. I'll get over it. If it's that big a problem for you, I won't use the pills. Just give me a break, okay?" He needed that. His heart was racing in his ears and he felt sick with stress. This was too much to have thrown at him and he wasn't coping. He needed to get away, but he needed to stay for them, too. He was torn.

"A break! You don't get to drop this crap on us and expect us to just forget it, Sam." His voice rose to a shout and he moved into Sam's space. "You don't get to die and leave us!"

It was too much; Dean's proximity and his anger was just like Michael. Sam expected him to draw the blade at any moment and start hurting him. He was shaking and his heart had sped even faster. He had to get away.

He turned from Dean and made to walk away, but Dean grabbed his arm. Sam's heart failed, knowing what happened next, but for the first time he could escape from it. He yanked his arm from Dean's and ran. He heard Mary call after him, but he couldn't stop even for her. She was shouting, too, and he had to be away from it. He needed to escape before Michael came.

* * *

As Sam rushed from the room, Mary called after him, but he didn't even pause. She heard his footsteps retreating and she took a breath in an attempt to calm herself. She wanted to go after him, but she needed to deal with her other son first.

The calming breath did nothing to help and her voice was loud as she rounded on Dean. "What the hell was that?"

Dean didn't even seem to hear her. He was looking at the place Sam had left with a stunned expression on his face. How he could be surprised Sam had run off after the way he acted was a mystery. He'd behaved disgustingly. Sam had needed care and understanding, and he'd received anger and accusations instead. Mary hadn't known about Sam fighting not to come back either, but she'd managed to control her reactions at least somewhat. Why hadn't Dean?

Her anger was also partially directed herself. She hadn't spoken up for Sam. She'd been so stunned by what was happening in front of her that she'd been frozen. It was like watching a car wreck happening in slow motion.

She grabbed Dean's shoulders and shook him. He moved like a ragdoll. She felt pity for him, but she was still angry at what he had done. "Dean!" she snapped. "Look at me."

He blinked drowsily and then his gaze cleared and he looked at her. "Sorry."

"You're saying that to the wrong person," she said. "What were you thinking?"

"I was angry," he said. "Look what he's doing to himself."

"I see it, but did you think to ask why he was doing it instead of slinging accusations at him? He's obviously not coping, fighting something, and we needed to know what it was to help him. We'll be lucky if he talks now. Hell, we'll be lucky if he stays."

"Do you think he'll leave?" Jack asked, obviously worried.

"I don't know. He's in a mess, and what just happened has made it even worse. He might leave just to get away from us." She ran a hand through her hair, pushing it away from her face. "He might run."

The thought scared her. She needed him there where she could look after him. If she found out what was happening to him, she could fix it; she could make him stay. She needed to find him.

She made to leave and Dean asked, "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to take care of my other son," she said. "Since you seem to have decided to make this as hard for him as it can possibly be."

"I'll come," he said.

"No, you won't. You've done enough."

"Mom…"

"Did you see his face when he ran?" she asked. "He was terrified. You scared him, _you_ , so you need to stay away until I can calm him down again. Castiel, Jack can you help me look?"

They both nodded.

"Tell me if you find him, but don't push him to talk. Let me help him." He needed his mother, not more pressure.

She walked out of the library with Castiel and Jack following her. When they came to the corridors, they split off to the right, toward the bedrooms, and she took the left. She didn't think he'd be in his room, somewhere they would think to look, so she headed toward the less used, more functional rooms of the bunker.

The treatment room was first along the hall, and she checked there but it was empty. It had been disturbed though. The cupboard doors were open and there was a half empty box of gauze pads on the floor. She guessed they were there from when Castiel had been searching for stuff for Dean to tend to Sam with after Michael had hurt him. She picked them up and put them back in the cupboard, not wanting herself or anyone else to have the reminder of what had happened by seeing them.

She moved along the hall to the lab and one of the storerooms. Curse boxes were stacked on shelves and there were jars and boxes with yellowing labels describing the contents. Sam wasn't there though, so she moved on, seeing that the door to the first of the archive rooms was ajar. Certain that it was where Sam had chosen to hide, she eased it opened and crept inside, calling Sam's name gently.

There was no response, but as she rounded the shelves, she saw that there was a small gap between them, showing darkness inside. She pulled them apart, revealing the room Dean proudly called the dungeon, and saw it was in darkness. The only light came from behind her, and it cast a ghostly silhouette on the floor. She leaned back and flipped on the light, flooding the room with light. She heard someone draw a shaky breath and entered to see Sam sitting on the floor in the corner, his head hidden against his drawn up knees.

"Sam," she said gently, slipping into the room and easing the shelves back behind her.

He looked up, and she thought there was relief in his reddened eyes. Perhaps he had been worried it was Dean coming for him again.

"Mom," he said in a choked voice.

"I'm here, honey."

She sat beside him and laid a tentative hand on his arm. He didn't flinch back, which she was thankful for. She needed some sign he would still allow her to give comfort to him, even though she hadn't stood for him against Dean.

He wiped a hand over his face. "I'm sorry."

She wanted to know what he was apologizing for so that she could reassure him. She held no blame toward him for any of it—not for hiding what was happening and how he was coping, or for needing to leave when it was too much to handle.

"You are going to stay, aren't you?" she asked. "You won't leave?"

He frowned. "Where else should I go?"

"Nowhere," she said. "You have to stay with us."

"Okay," he said quietly.

She smoothed back his hair, just as she had when he'd been unconscious and so ill. He leaned into her touch, and she felt her heart ache for him. He was her son, and she wanted to take care of him, but she had been holding back so that he could feel strong. Dean had been passionate about that, though he was the one that hadn't been able to do it.

"What's happening to you, Sam? Tell me so I can help you."

He ducked his head and a tear dropped onto his knee. "I'm hurting, Mom. He's hurting me so much."

"Dean?"

"No!" he said quickly. "Michael."

"How?" Mary asked. He had hurt Sam before, but he'd not been there for weeks now. Even his injuries were healed now, so he shouldn't be feeling the pain of what he had already done.

"He comes," Sam whispered.

"Here! How is that possible? Why haven't we seen him?" How were they even alive? If Michael was coming, he surely wouldn't have hesitated to kill them all and take Jack.

"He comes at night."

Mary was confused. Even coming at night wouldn't stop him killing them. It would be easier even. And then the realization of what had been happening to Sam settled over her. How could she have missed it for so long?

"It's your dreams. You're dreaming of him."

He shook his head. "It's not dreams. He really comes. Angels can dream walk, actually come to you, and he does."

Mary heard a shocked breath from outside the room and she knew one of the others had found them. She hoped it was Castiel or Jack, but the fact they were lurking out there and hiding made her think it was Dean.

Sam wiped a hand over his face. "He comes and he hurts me every night. It's not so bad at first, because I can fight it, but after Cas 'helps' me, I'm trapped. It doesn't stop until what Cas has done wears off and I wake up."

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"What good would it do? If I had found anything else out about his plan, I would have told you, but Castiel already knew when he heard it on angel radio. There's nothing that can stop him, and it would have upset you all, so I didn't say anything. It was better that way."

"You dying would not have been better," she said, an unwanted bite to her tone.

"I wouldn't have died. It might have been hard, and I could have…struggled again, but I was getting enough sleep for my body."

"And your mind?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know."

She knew he was lying. He would have lost his mind again eventually, and he would have let it happen rather than telling them and risk upsetting them. His logic was twisted. Did he think they wouldn't be upset when he lost his mind? He obviously wasn't thinking clearly, unsurprising given that he couldn't possibly be able to with what was happening to him. Her poor son.

"He hurts you," she said and Sam nodded. "What does he do?"

Sam took a deep and shaky breath. "It's like I'm in the Cage again, but worse. When I was there, I'd die in a way, so I'd get a break. Michael would talk to the voices, too, so that was a break. When he comes now, he's completely focused on me."

Mary's couldn't even begin to imagine what he had been through, was still going through, knowing each night was going to bring torture and each day was spent in anticipation of it. She was sure she would have lost her mind a long time ago in his position. The fact he was hanging on as best as he could was a testament to his strength.

"I have to be quiet, too," Sam said. It seemed that now that he was talking about it, letting it out, he couldn't stop. "I can't make a sound or talk unless he tells me to. He asks where Jack is, and I've told him he left us, and I think he believes me, but I can't make a sound because of Dean."

"Dean?"

Sam nodded. "Michael has a plan for me. I have to die because of what I did to him. But not like before. He says when it's over, when he has won, he will take me and kill me again and again forever. The other angels can do it, too, because they hate us. I have to be quiet because if I don't, he will take Dean and kill him like that, too." He looked imploringly at her. "I can't make a sound. I have to be good to save him."

Mary swallowed against the nausea as she cupped Sam's cheek and brushed away a tear slipping down his face. "He's been hurting you every night, making you suffer it in silence, and you've let him?"

"I couldn't stop him," Sam said desperately. "He's too strong."

"But you've done it in silence?"

"Yes," he said, his eyes begging her to understand. "I had to."

There was a creak of the filing cabinet blocking them in and Dean appeared. His face was white and his hands fisted. Mary turned from him back to Sam, and for a moment she thought Dean was going to start shouting again, but when he spoke his voice was a rasp. "Why, Sammy?"

Sam didn't even seem to realize the question hadn't come from her, as his eyes were still fixed on hers. "For Dean."

* * *

Dean had heard enough to make him want to vomit and gouge at himself to transfer the emotional pain to physical. He could handle that, his own pain; he couldn't handle Sam suffering. He had to get in there, to stop Sam saying those terrible things and to help him if he could.

He pulled back the cabinets to slip through, and he saw his mother and Sam sitting on the cold concrete floor. Sam was curled up, showing his vulnerability, and Mary was hunched over herself, in pain but watching him carefully.

"Why, Sammy?" he asked.

"For Dean," Sam said, his eyes fixed his mother.

Dean hated himself more in that moment than he had at any other point in his life. That Sam thought suffering like that in silence was worth it for him was unbelievable and awful.

He walked deeper into the room and sat down slowly, opposite Sam.

When he caught sight of him, Sam paled further and his wet eyes widened. He looked scared, as if he thought Dean was going to start shouting again or even attack him. Dean felt impossibly worse at the thought of his brother being afraid of him.

Sam wasn't breaking, or unrested, he was broken and exhausted, and Dean had played a large part in it. It wasn't enough that he had ranted and raved at him instead of comforting and caring as he should have, he was part of the reason Sam suffered so badly in the first place. Dean knew pain, and he knew how it felt to suffer in silence. He had done it in Hell at first, keeping his cries from Alastair's ears as he hadn't wanted him to have the satisfaction of knowing it was working. He had learned that was worse though. Holding the pain in only multiplied it. You had to scream, to let it go to lessen it even a little. Sam hadn't been able to do that. And they had made it worse even by having Castiel force him deeper into the dream each night.

"Why did you do this to yourself?" he asked.

"I had to," Sam said again. "I needed to protect you. I couldn't let him hurt you."

"Don't you think I would rather have hurt than let you go through that alone?"

Sam shook his head jerkily. "Michael is insane. He would really do it. You don't know what he's like. If he does take me, I will hurt, but if I'm quiet, you'll get Heaven. Your heaven was better than what I had. We were both there, and Mom. You said yourself mine was crap. You threw away the necklace because of it."

"Sam… that was…"

"I understood it," Sam said. "And I kept it anyway, because I hoped you'd want it back one day, and you did. So it's okay. But my heaven was wrong, and yours what it should have been. I was there still. I was a baby and you said we were in the field together with the fireworks, so it won't be so bad. We'll still be together."

Dean felt a surge of anger at the depth of Sam's misunderstanding. How could he think a heaven with a shadow of his brother would be enough for him, especially when he'd know the real Sam was suffering eternally?

He forced it down though and his tone was calmer as he said, "That's not the same, Sammy. I can't have a heaven without you. The real you."

"It's the only way," Sam said miserably. "We don't both need to suffer. I have to protect you."

"No, you have to let us protect you. Right, Mom?"

Mary nodded and stroked Sam's hair. "There has to be a way we can fix this," she said. "Castiel must know something."

"Yeah," Dean said. "Like the rib etchings, or warding. We can do something to block him from your mind."

Sam looked almost hopeful. It was a pitiful expression in the circumstances, but it was better than it could have been.

Dean stood and offered his hands to his mother and Sam. Mary stood easily but Sam struggled a little. Dean knew that the overload of stress and emotion had drained him. When he was upright, Dean patted his arm and led them out of the dungeon and through to the hall where they found Castiel and Jack. He didn't say a word to them, but he was pleased when they followed him through to the library, too.

There were still a couple beers in the six-pack on the table, and he unscrewed the cap of one and handed it to Sam as he sat down with Mary. He accepted it and took a swig.

"You heard it all?" Dean asked.

"Too much," Jack said quietly. He looked like he'd been through as much as Sam. Dean guessed this kind of emotion without being able to help was tough on him. When Sam had been sick, when he'd died, there was something Jack could do. None of them, except perhaps Mary, knew what to do for Sam to comfort now.

Castiel nodded. "We heard and I know what to do."

Sam looked up. "You do?"

"Yes. We can ward the bunker against that kind of infiltration to your mind. It will cut us off from angel radio, but Jack blocks it anyway and I can go outside regularly to find out what they are saying. It is not a big price to pay for you to have peace, Sam."

"But if he can't get in, he'll be angry," Sam said. "He'll take Dean, too."

"I don't care if he takes me," Dean said.

"No," Castiel said firmly. "I will not allow him to take either of you. I will make you safe."

Sam shook his head. "You can't, Cas. He's stronger than you."

"He's not stronger than me though," Jack said. "I beat him before. I can again."

"No, Jack," Sam said. "It's too much for you."

Jack forced a smile. "I want to be good. I think killing him would make me good. It will be hard, but you said it's harder to be good than bad, Castiel. If you can help me, show me how to fight, I'll be able to do it." He bit his lip. "I've been so scared of my power, of myself. I've done good with it, helping Castiel to save you, Sam, but I want to do more. If I kill him, the world will be safe. I think this is why I am here now. Lucifer may be my father, and he has given me power, but my mother gave me strength. She knew I could be good; she wanted to me be. She died because of me, so I can do this for her."

"You didn't kill her," Castiel started.

"But I did," Jack said. "And I don't think you know how that feels."

"I do," Sam said quietly. "My mom is here now, but she died because of me, and so did my girlfriend, Jess." Mary started to protest, but Sam held up a shaking hand. "I loved Jess more than any woman I have loved since and ever will again, I wanted forever with her, but she died. So did Dean. People have died because of and for me, and I've wanted to make things right for that for a long time. So I understand how you feel now."

Dean glanced at Mary and saw her eyes were wet as she looked at Sam. Dean had always known Sam blamed himself for Jessica and Mary, and apparently him, too, but they hadn't spoken about it in so long he thought Sam had gotten through it, accepted that it wasn't him. It hurt him to know he was wrong. He didn't think he was the one to get through to Sam for that though. It would take Mary to perhaps reach him.

"So you'll help me?" Jack asked.

Sam nodded slowly. "I don't know what I can really do, apart from tell you what he's said before, but there might be a way. We'll try."

Jack beamed.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Jack?" Castiel asked. "It could get you hurt."

"Or worse," Dean added.

"If you were me, if you had this chance, would you do it?" he asked, looking at them each in turn.

Dean thought of every other time he, Sam and Castiel had gone up against the odds to beat some fugly. Mary had done it against Lucifer, too, knowing that it could kill her. Not one of them could say truthfully that they wouldn't.

"Yes," he said. "We would do it."

Jack smiled. "That's what I thought."

"But we're doing this smart," Dean went on. "You're not going after him until we're sure you're ready. You will learn everything Cas can teach you first, you will listen to Sam, and you will come back after. Understand?"

Jack nodded, though they all knew that wasn't necessarily a promise that he could keep.

Dean looked at the people around him though, his family, and knew that they had to let him try. It was the only way any of them could have peace again.

* * *

 **So… That was a tough one. So much emotion to convey. Hope it came across as I'd hoped.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	17. Chapter 16

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing and Gredelina1 for supporting and encouraging. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Sixteen**_

Castiel watched Sam and Jack circling each other, bouncing on the balls of their feet with fists raised in front of them. Sam's expression was serious, but Jack's eyes were dancing. He loved this, his 'training', as it gave him time with them all and it was preparing him for the fight Castiel knew he was eager for.

Castiel wished he wasn't so eager. He was confident that Jack was more powerful than Michael, but the fact was that Michael was a warrior, a soldier of God, and he had millennia of experience. He was also insane. There was no knowing what he would throw at Jack. He had no fear Jack would break to Michael and open the rift to Lucifer, but what he might suffer for his refusal worried Castiel. Michael had proven that there was no depth he wouldn't stoop to with what he had done to Sam. Sam was strong, brave, and Michael had almost broken him completely with his cruelty. None of them wanted to see Jack suffer like that, too.

Sam was doing better now though. He swore the warding was holding and Michael wasn't coming to him anymore. He no longer took the caffeine pills to give him energy after his troubled nights, and he didn't seem to be having nightmares of any form when Castiel checked on him. He was steady on his feet and his hands didn't shake. He seemed like himself again though it obviously worried him that Michael would be angry and target Dean in revenge.

Castiel couldn't understand how he had missed the signs of suffering before when he saw how well Sam was now. He had been so preoccupied with healing his physical ailments that the mental ones had gone unnoticed. He bore his own guilt for that, and for not knowing he was in fact hurting Sam more when he was trying to banish the nightmares, trapping him within them instead.

They were all happier now, Jack especially. He had no nerves about what was to come; he was excited. Castiel knew he had achieved much in his short life, and that gave him confidence. It was hard for Castiel as he knew when the time came to fight, he wouldn't be able to do a thing to help. He couldn't protect Jack from this as Kelly had relied on him to do.

His attention was drawn to the sparring session in front of him as they finally stopped their circling and Sam attacked as Dean cheered.

Sam caught Jack's arm and twisted it back then quickly maneuvered him into a headlock. He would never have been able to do it had Jack not been controlling his strength, but the lesson here was technique not power. Sam and Dean had been fighting in one form or another for almost all of their lives, and Jack was learning from them.

Sam straightened to his fullest height, gripping Jack's neck tightly, and Dean whooped.

"Kick his ass, Sammy! Do it for us humans."

Jack huffed a laugh from his pinned position and yanked himself out of Sam's hold and then swept Sam's feet out from under him. Sam fell back hard on the mat and his breath whooshed out of him.

"That was for us angels," he said with glee.

Sam gave him the thumbs up as he tried to catch his breath again.

"Sammy?" Dean said worriedly, pushing up from the bench he was sitting on and walking toward him.

"Are you okay?" Jack asked, concerned now and guilty.

Sam finally succeeded in drawing a breath into his flattened lungs and he rasped, "I'm fine."

Dean held out a hand to Sam who took it and allowed himself to be hefted to his feet.

"Really, Jack," Sam said, seeing his concern. "You didn't hurt me. We humans just need to make sure the air coming and going is a regular thing." He laughed. "You did good though."

Dean smiled slyly. "That was a gutter move though, Sammy."

"You were cheering me on," Sam pointed out.

"I was caught up in the moment."

"What is a gutter move?" Jack asked curiously.

Sam huffed a laugh. "It's what our dad would call any move he thought was a little below the belt. He'd compare it to drunks brawling in the gutter. He made me and Dean learn actual martial arts moves, and would come down hard when we'd get carried away."

"That doesn't sound fair," Jack said. "If you win, why does it matter how you fight?"

"It isn't fair," Mary said firmly.

Sam seemed to realize his mistake in talking about his father with Mary present, especially the hunting aspect of their youth, and his face fell. "Mom…"

She shook her head briskly. "None of it was fair. You shouldn't have learned how to fight at all."

"But we did," Dean said calmly. "And he wanted us to learn properly because the things we'd be fighting would be using gutter moves. We could beat them by taking better care and using the skills he'd taught us that the monsters wouldn't be expecting."

"Will Michael use gutter moves?" Jack asked.

"I don't know," Castiel said. "I would once have said never, no angel would, but we have changed and Michael is insane. He will rely on his blade first and foremost, which may hurt you. I am almost certain it won't kill you though."

"Almost," Sam said quietly.

Jack nudged Sam's shoulder with a fist. "I'll be fine. I just need to get the blade off of him and it'll be easy."

"Nothing about Michael is easy," Sam said darkly, and the room became taut with tension.

"I know that," Jack said carefully. "What I mean is that if he's got no weapon, he can't hurt me. I'm stronger."

"And he won't actually want to kill you," Castiel said. "He has a use for you. He will be more concentrated on convincing you that helping him is the right thing to do; that God wants you to do it."

"Like Asmodeus?" Jack said.

"Exactly," Dean said. "And you won't make that mistake again, so you don't need to worry."

Jack nodded. "I won't."

An uncomfortable moment settled over them all, and Dean broke it with a grin. "You want a challenge, Jack, you should take on Mom. She's a helluva fighter. She handed my ass to me one time. It was lucky I got out of that one."

"I did?" Mary asked.

"Yeah. It was the first time I was sent back to see you. I was following you and Dad and you caught me lurking. Totally kicked my ass. It was only because I figured out that you were a hunter that I got out of it. You left bruises though." He grinned at the memory.

Mary sighed. "It's so strange to me that I don't remember that."

"Why don't you remember?" Jack asked.

"Michael wiped her memory," Dean explained. "Before he went crazy, when he was just a dick with wings, he wiped me and Sam from Mom and our dad's mind so they wouldn't remember our warning about what was coming. The angels needed me and Sammy to be born for their epic smackdown. We were supposed to be their vessels. It was a lineage thing."

Jack nodded. "But only Sam said yes."

"Exactly, and he did it to save the world," Dean said proudly. "Lucifer had some other poor bastard called Nick for a year before Sam, but Michael only took a vessel at the very end."

Sam shot him a sharp look. Castiel understood his concern; Dean was treading close to explaining who Adam was. He hoped Mary would let it pass her by, but she didn't.

"Who was Michael's vessel then?" she asked.

Dean opened his mouth but Sam spoke over him. "He was a kid that was somehow related to us like Nick must have been. We don't know who he was, but the connection must have been distant as Lucifer was basically rotting him from the inside out. It took massive amounts of demon blood to sustain him even that much."

Castiel could see that Mary believed Sam's story and he was relieved for all of their sakes. She didn't need to know about Adam; it would serve no purpose but to hurt her to know John had had another child without her.

"So, Jack, you ready for some more?" Sam asked.

"I don't want to stop you breathing," Jack said.

Sam laughed. "Then have a shot at Dean. He's full of hot air."

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean said.

Sam winked. "Anytime."

"I think perhaps it is time to take a break from physical training and concentrate on mental," Castiel said. "We still haven't fully explored your abilities to teleport."

"I can't do it though," Jack said.

"You've only tried a handful of times," Castiel said. "I know you're nervous, too, but as Michael is the only angel left in this world that can fly, you should learn, too."

He didn't understand Jack's nerves. He had excelled and practiced hard at every skill but this one. He would need to ask why when they were alone.

"I will," Jack said. "Just not right now. I'm hungry."

Sam chuckled. "You're always hungry. Come on, we'll see what's in the fridge and I'll make you something."

Dean grinned. "He said he's hungry, Sam. Your leafy crap isn't going to cut it. How about a burger, Jack?"

"Yeah," Jack said. "That'd be good."

Cholesterol, Dean?" Sam said disapprovingly.

"He's half angel. I don't see him having a heart attack any time soon."

"And yours?"

"I'm good a little longer," Dean said, "and Cas can give me a full reset if it becomes a problem."

"You mean if your arteries clog up completely?" Sam asked.

"Exactly." Dean sounded pleased that he understood.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine. You go cook. Jack and I will work on the emotional summoning some more."

"How am I going to cook without an assistant?" Dean asked.

"Same way you did before Jack got here," Sam replied.

Mary tugged on his arm. "Quit pouting, Dean. It's not nearly so cute when you're a grown man compared to when you were four. I'll help you anyway."

Smiling, Dean allowed himself to be led away.

"You ready, Jack?" Sam asked.

Jack nodded and took a seat on the mat they'd been using to spar on, crossing his legs in front of him. Sam sat opposite and Castiel moved back to watch unobtrusively.

Sam had been declared the best person to teach Jack to understand and control his emotions. He had needed to do something similar to exorcise demons with his powers, and no one else had quite the same control he had. Dean felt things in extremes; when he was angry he was furious, when happy he was elated. Mary didn't seem to want to tap into herself too deeply, and Castiel was still confused by emotions sometimes, even after all this time.

Castiel was learning as much about himself as he was about Sam and Jack watching these sessions. They were both such complex beings that it fascinated him to see them work, and it helped him to understand what he felt sometimes when he could not define a clear emotion.

Sam was teaching Jack to tap into a feeling or memory and use it to strengthen him and therefore his powers.

"What are you feeling, Jack?" he asked.

"Hungry."

Sam huffed a laugh. "You know that's not what I mean. Sooner we get this done, sooner we can go eat, so concentrate. What are you feeling?"

"Happy."

"Good. Now, what is it that's making you happy?"

"Burgers," Jack answered quickly. Sam raised an eyebrow and he apologized. "I am happy because I was able to outmaneuver you for the first time. I am happy because I learned a little more about Mary, and I am happy because we're all here together."

"And how does that make you feel?"

"Light," Jack said. "It makes things seem brighter. Even colors are different."

"Okay," Sam said. "I'm guessing that's an angel thing, as that feeling is more like adrenaline for us." He glanced at Castiel who nodded. "Now, I want you to let the emotion fill you. Take hold of it and embrace it. Then, when you feel it taking over, look at that weight bench and lift it."

Jack fixed his eyes on the bench Dean had been sitting on and he narrowed his eyes. It was a strange combination to see the strain in him combined with the wide smile. The bench rattled and then lifted an inch from the floor.

"Any more?" Sam asked.

Jack concentrated and it lifted a little higher but then it clattered back to the floor. "Sorry," he said quickly.

"It's fine," Sam said. "You did good. No matter what emotion you use, it's harder to lift something like that than it is a pencil or to move a chair. When I moved something the first time, I was out of my mind with panic. I shoved a dresser away. When I was holding the demons, it was much harder, even though I hated them."

"What emotion should I use then?"

"Which one do you think makes you strongest?" Sam asked.

"Anger," he said without hesitation. "But I don't want to be angry. That was how the rifts opened when you were taken."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "So anger scares you, too. It's a combination of the two. I think that's the one to tap into then. You don't need to let it fill you the way you did happiness, but try to harness it and use it for strength. If you harness it, you control it and yourself. You won't open rifts."

"But I don't control it yet," Jack said. "What if it opens one?"

"Then you will close it again. You're not giving yourself enough credit. You can do this. I get that you're scared, but you will probably be scared and angry facing Michael, too, and opening a rift is the very worst thing you can do there."

Jack nodded slowly. "Okay. What do I do?"

"Tell me something that makes you angry," Sam said.

"You," Jack said.

Sam looked stunned and a little hurt. "What do I do that makes you angry?" he asked, careful to keep his tone neutral.

"Die."

Sam winced.

"When I saw Michael stab you, it made me angry, and then when you died again, when you fought us, I felt useless; I was scared we wouldn't be able to get you back because I was too tired."

"And that still makes you angry now?" Sam asked.

Castiel could see he was struggling with the admission but he was managing it for Jack's sake. It had to be hard for him to hear this and not let himself react to it.

"Yes."

"Okay. Good. Think about that now. Don't let it fill you, but remember what it was like when I was fighting and you were tired. When you can see it, see me, lift the bench."

The bench shot three feet into the air and clattered down again, making Castiel flinch. He thought Jack had lost control, but it quickly became clear he was searching for a better target. There was a rack of dumbbells in the corner, and Jack lifted that. They lifted high and hovered there.

Sam looked at them and his eyebrows shot up. When he spoke, his voice was calm though. "That's good, Jack. Now slowly set them down again. Concentrate on keeping them steady."

The lowered and set back on the floor with a soft rattle. Jack raised his eyes to Sam and he looked hopeful. "Was that okay?"

"That was awesome," Sam said, though his excitement was muted.

Jack frowned. "Really? You don't sound happy."

"I am. It's just I feel guilty, too, Jack. I don't like that I'm the one that's made you most angry, and I hate that you were scared. I don't know what happened when I fought, I don't remember any of it, but it doesn't make it right. I shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry."

"I know. It wasn't your fault. You didn't think you were coming back to us. You thought it was Michael. I would have fought, too. And it's over now."

Sam smiled slightly. "It is. Now, one more thing and we can see how Dean's doing with the burgers. Find the happy feeling again. Tell me what made you feel best."

"When you were awake and talking to us. Everyone was so happy and the energy was so good. It felt like the sun on my face."

"Let that feeling fill you again," Sam said. "Hold it in your chest. Have you got it?"

"Yes. It's there. What do you want me to move?"

"Nothing," Sam said, patting his knee and standing. "I just want you to hold that feeling as long as you can."

Jack laughed and got to his feet. "I can do that."

"Especially when burgers are coming?" Castiel guessed.

"Yes," Jack said. "Definitely."

Castiel looked at him, his given son, and a wave of happiness and pride swept through him. He was doing so well with his powers, building his strength. He was trying hard and it was paying off. With these new achievements, Castiel grew more confident that they would triumph over Michael.

* * *

Sam woke earlier than usual, but rested and happy after a night's peaceful sleep. He was smiling as he dressed and laced his boots. He thought it might be good to get outside and breathe some fresh air for a change.

He heard no sound of movement from the other rooms, and he figured the others were still sleeping. Only Castiel would have passed the night awake, and Sam wondered whether he would want to join him outside for a while.

There was no sign of Castiel in the library though, nor in the map room as Sam passed through it to the door. Unconcerned—thinking maybe he was with Jack or practicing his cooking skills—Sam carried on up the stairs and outside. The cool air felt good against his face as he walked onto the track that led to their door. It was even earlier than he'd realized. The sun hadn't risen yet.

He made for the small hill behind the old electric plant that was over the bunker. They sometimes utilized it for stargazing or watching the sunrise after a late night as it was clear of artificial light and surrounded by fields. Sam saw Castiel standing on the hill and he smiled at the thought that his friend felt the same desire to see the day start.

Castiel didn't turn, but he greeted Sam as he approached him. "Hello, Sam."

"Hey, Cas." He stood beside him and looked out at the dusky fields. "How are you doing?"

Castiel's cheeks lifted in a smile. "I'm fine. How are you?"

"I'm good," Sam said honestly. "Michael is still away, and I slept great. Things are much better."

"I think they are for us all. We're all happier now. If we could just deal with Michael…"

"We're getting there," Sam said. "Jack is doing much better now. He's getting better control of his emotions each day."

"He is, and I am proud of him, but I wish he would extend his training to flying. He resists me at every turn. When it is time, we need him to be able to actually get to Michael wherever he is."

"He's scared," Sam said.

Castiel frowned. "Of flying?"

"Of leaving. For Jack to learn to fly, he needs to get out of the bunker to really stretch his abilities."

"But I have been trying to train him inside," Castiel argued.

"Yeah, but he knows that once he actually does it, the next step is going outside, and that means danger. Not for him," he said, seeing his confusion, "but for us. Jack can't protect us if he's not here, but he'd need to travel far to learn properly. You weren't held back by anything when you had your wings; you could go anywhere. Jack would need that, too, and that's what's scary for him."

"He told you this?" Castiel asked.

"He didn't need to," Sam said. "It's what would scare me, too. I guessed and he confirmed it."

"What do we do then?" Castiel asked.

Sam shrugged. "Find a way to make him see we're safe. Jack has done well, learning his power even though it went so wrong with Asmodeus and for me. This is just something else he has to get over."

"I miss flying," Castiel said sadly. "I felt much more helpful then."

"You're still plenty helpful," Sam said. "You saved me."

"I did," Castiel said. "And I am so glad, but I feel like I saved more before I let Metatron trick me."

Sam huffed a laugh. "You're talking to the man that almost ended the world, Cas. I know about saving and I know about being tricked. Ruby led me by the nose and I didn't listen to the people I should have trusted more. We both made huge mistakes, but we're trying to atone for them now. That's all we can do."

Castiel nodded slowly. "Yes, you're right. I wanted to talk about that actually. I had an idea of how we can perhaps bolster our efforts against Michael, but I didn't want to act until I had spoken about it to someone else."

Curious, Sam gestured to him to go on.

"It's occurred to me that, even when Jack is ready, we're not going to know where and when to strike Michael. I have heard him sometimes on angel radio, but he never reveals where he is—heaven or earth—in his rambling. I am sure another angel would know though, especially if she can gain his confidences."

"She? You have someone in mind?"

"There is an angel called Beriah. She is one the purest, brightest angels I know. She was against Raphael's plan with me and has been my friend for a very long time. She is gentle though, so she has never actually fought. I am sure that if she would not stand for me then, she will not stand for Michael now, which means there is a chance she will help me now. She would not need to fight to infiltrate Michael, just be open to his words, and I will not ask her to fight for us, because there is nothing she could do anyway. She would just be an informer."

"A spy," Sam said with a nod.

"That seems a harsh view of it, but yes."

"What's the holdup then?" Sam asked. "If she's as good as you say, it's easy."

"My judgment has not always proven to be good," Castiel said.

"Neither has mine," Sam pointed out. "I think it's a good idea, though. Maybe reach out now, just get a feel for her, and talk to the others about bringing her in on the plan."

"Now?"

"Yeah. Don't tell her anything; just touch base. Tell her you were concerned."

Sam could see no danger in that, but he could see hope. If they knew where Michael was, when Jack was ready, they could strike. He had been thinking the same thing as Castiel, and had begun to think luring Michael to them would be the only option. This would give them greater control over the situation, taking the fight to him.

Castiel stared out at the horizon with a distant look in his eyes. Sam recognized it as the expression he usually wore when tuned into angel radio. He stayed silent, letting Castiel concentrate, just watching him. When Castiel's eyes cleared and he blinked, he asked, "Did you reach her?"

"Yes. She was very surprised to hear my voice and reassured me that she is well. Heaven is in confusion, as I already knew, with Michael at the helm. They're very afraid of him. She didn't speak long as he was close in Heaven, checking to make sure his troops are 'battle ready'."

Sam sighed. "That sounds nice and sane. Is he ready for the war already?"

"He seems to think it will come soon, yes."

It made Sam a little uneasy to think of the proposed battle, though he was sure it wouldn't happen. He couldn't help but think of the world they had been in, the world where Mary had been trapped, and what it had become because of Michael and Lucifer. They wouldn't let that happen again.

The sun crested and Sam watched as the sky changed with color.

"A new day," Castiel said, satisfied.

"Yep," Sam said. "Any chance we can start it with some more of your pancakes?"

Castiel laughed softly. "Of course. I will make them now. Are you ready to come in?"

"I think I'll stay out here a few more minutes," Sam said. "Just enjoy it a little longer."

Castiel patted his shoulder and then turned and walked down the hill.

Sam stood for a while, watching the landscape come to life with light and he smiled. This was what they were training Jack for, to protect this, the earth and all the billions of people on it that had no idea of the threat that was hanging over them. It was going to work, and then Jack would never again have cause to question if he really was good.

He realized he should get inside if he wanted to actually eat any of the pancakes Castiel was making before Dean and Jack scarfed them all, and he turned to walk down the hill. He had barely gotten three paces before someone blocked his path.

He looked into the familiar and hated face and felt his heart start to race with fear.

"Hello, Sam."

"Michael."

* * *

 **So… Some nice fun stuff followed by a cliffhanger ending. They're always fun.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	18. Chapter 17

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing and Gredelina1 for supporting and encouraging. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Seventeen**_

Sam was so terrified at first that he didn't move. He stood frozen with Michael smiling at him. It was only when the danger Michael's presence posed to the others occurred him that he foolishly tried to run.

He headed away from the bunker's entrance, wanting to get Michael away from his family. He skidded on the dewy grass though, and fell, rolling down the hill. He scrambled to his feet, glancing back at Michael who was still standing at the top of the hill, looking down, and then set off running towards the cow field ahead of him. It was ringed by a wooden fence and ditch. Sam jumped the ditch and vaulted over the fence, his heart hammering in his ears and his breath coming in rasps. He glanced back over his shoulder as he stumbled over the tussocks of grass and saw Michael was still on the hill. It occurred to him that he might actually be able to get away. Michael was insane and there was no knowing which of the voices in his head he was currently talking to—God or Raphael or someone new. Maybe he'd stay there long enough for Sam to get to a car or something. As long as he kept going away from the bunker, the others would be okay.

He turned away from the hill and then flailed and fell again as he saw Michael standing directly in front of him.

"Sam," he said with a wide smile that chilled Sam to the core. "Where are you going?"

Sam pushed himself to a sitting position. He was terrified and his heart felt like it was going to leap out of his chest, but he was also angry. Michael, the creature of his torturous nightmares, was there, and he was surely going to suffer terrible pain again, but he was angry that he had come so close to his family. Unless Sam thought fast, Michael was going to get them, too.

He took the feeling and embraced it, just as he had taught Jack to do. It made his ears ring and his eyes blur, but it felt better than being scared. It gave him power.

He stood up, stepped around Michael and started walking, continuing away from the bunker.

Michael sounded stunned as he asked, "Where are you going?"

"Away from you," Sam spat. He knew he had no chance of escape now, he probably hadn't before either, but he wasn't going to follow Michael like a lamb to the slaughter. If he wanted Sam, if it was time, he would have to drag him away. Sam wasn't going freely.

Michael fell into step at his side. "It took me a long time to find you, Sam. Do you really think I am going to let you just walk away from me?"

"How did you find me?" Sam asked. That was important, if he knew where Sam was, he could know where the others were, too.

"Someone told me."

"Yeah? Which of the voices in your head were you listening to this time?"

"Castiel's."

Sam was so shocked he actually stopped to look at him. "What?" He knew Castiel wouldn't betray them, so he wondered how it had happened.

"Yes. As I said, I've been looking for you a long time, and I knew Castiel would be where you were, so I listened for him. I didn't sense him until today, just a little while ago in fact. He was suddenly blaring on angel radio, searching for Beriah. I wasn't supposed to hear, of course, but I am an archangel and I think Castiel forgot that. I can hear all channels of conversation if I please. It was a simple matter of following his voice and I found you. Where did Castiel go?"

"Ran to the store," Sam said, still filled with the bravery inducing anger. "We realized we'd forgotten something for the picnic."

"No, really, where is he? And the rest of your family? The woman and your brother, and the nephilim? I need him."

"I told you, he left us. I don't know where he is. Once I got back, Dean sent him away. He was so pissed at what had happened. Jack didn't even argue."

"Ah. That's inconvenient. Though I think Castiel will know where he is. He was defensive of the creature when I killed you. He put his hand on his chest as if that would protect him."

"You were the one that needed defending," Sam said. "Jack blasted you away."

"Yes. I wasn't expecting that. It's not a problem though, my Father has told me how to handle him."

Sam was worried. He didn't think God would have spoken to him at all, let alone tell him something that would hurt Jack, but what if Michael had somehow found a weakness they didn't know about?

Sam set off walking again, in no particular direction other than away from the Bunker. Michael walked beside him for a little while and then he caught Sam's arm and dragged him to a stop. "Are you done yet? There is a lot to do and I would like to get started."

Sam breathed hard through his nose, refusing him an answer.

"Good," Michael said with a nod. He gripped Sam's upper arm hard and Sam felt the swoop in his stomach as he was carried away under the archangel's impetus.

* * *

Dean hadn't checked on Sam when he woke, as he knew Sam probably wouldn't appreciate it, and there was little need anymore. He was sleeping better, he wasn't popping pep, and he swore the warding had stopped the nightmares. Dean could relax and allow him to be strong now as he really was.

He wandered into the kitchen and saw his mother and Jack sitting at the table holding cups of coffee.

"Hey. Where's Cas?"

"I haven't seen him," Jack said. "He wasn't here when I got up."

Castiel was usually in the kitchen when he heard them starting to rise, coffee ready and sometimes breakfast started.

"Maybe he's out checking up on angel radio," Dean said, pouring himself a coffee and sitting down beside his mother. "He's been pretty careful about it. He's fine."

"Of course he is," Mary said.

Dean sipped his coffee and considered his options for breakfast. He could make something himself, but he was feeling kind of lazy and would prefer to be indulged. Perhaps he could persuade Sam or Castiel to make something. They were pretty awesome cooks, too.

"He's coming," Jack said as Dean heard the distant creak of the front door.

He looked up expectantly as Castiel's footsteps approached and he appeared in the doorway. "Good morning."

Jack and Mary greeted him and Dean nodded while trying to formulate a good argument for Castiel cooking for them. He didn't need to though. Castiel went straight to the cupboard and began pulling out pans.

"Oh, you're cooking?" Dean said innocently.

"Sam wants pancakes," Castiel said.

Dean frowned. "Since when does Sam get what he wants? What if the rest of us prefer waffles?"

"One, we do not own a waffle iron. Two, I think Sam deserves something good."

"I've died a bunch of times and no one made me breakfast," Dean grumbled.

Jack grinned as Mary frowned.

"Next time you die, you can choose the breakfast," Castiel said.

Dean laughed and then cut off abruptly as Mary held up a hand and said, "Can we not please. I don't need any new nightmares. I have plenty as it is, thanks."

"Sorry, Mom." Dean moved a little closer to her and brushed her arm with his. "Are you having a bad time?"

"No worse than I'm sure everyone else is," she said. "It was just a particularly rough night. I have a bad feeling."

Dean touched her shoulder. "It's probably nothing. We get them all the time, which makes sense with our history, but they're usually nothing. Especially on a day that starts with pancakes."

"I thought you wanted waffles," Jack said.

Dean winked at him. "I'll deal."

"Where is Sam anyway?" Mary asked.

"He's outside still. We watched the sunrise together."

It was stated so innocently that Dean couldn't help but tease him. "That sounds romantic. Did you hold hands, too?"

Castiel sighed. "Appreciating the magnificence of my Father's creation coming to life with the dawn of a new day does not have to be romantic. It can just be a moment to be thankful with a friend. And we used the opportunity to talk. I had the idea to reach out to a friend for help, and Sam agreed."

"What friend?" Dean asked suspiciously. He trusted Castiel, but his friends had a habit of screwing up since that was a defining characteristic of an angel. He didn't want Castiel running off with an idea and ruining their advantage.

"Her name is Beriah. She is a good and gentle angel. I thought we could use her to our advantage to find Michael when the time is right. I didn't tell her anything, or even speak to her directly, I just reached out to make contact."

"I guess that's okay," Dean conceded. "Might be good to have an inside woman."

"That's what Sam thought." Castiel opened the fridge and brought out eggs and milk. He carried them over to the counter and turned the dial on the stove to light the gas. He reached for matches and then froze, his expression vague.

Dean frowned as the smell of gas crept to him. He quickly stood and brushed Castiel's hand away from the dial to turn it off.

"I was joking about the dying thing, Cas. I don't want to be gassed."

Castiel jerked back to life and sprinted out of the room without a word.

"Castiel?" Mary called after him.

"Come on," Dean said, running after him. Castiel was racing up the stairs, his coat flying out behind him.

"What's happening?" Mary asked behind him.

Dean didn't know the what, but he was pretty sure he knew the who.

Castiel ripped the door open and Dean ran out after him. He was heading for the hill behind the bunker, shouting Sam's name, and Dean added his own voice, calling to his brother.

They reached the top of the hill and stopped. Castiel turned, searching the horizon. Dean shaded his eyes and looked around, too. There were tracks in the dewy grass leading away and Dean followed them. They led into the field opposite and he jumped the ditch and climbed over the fence, his eyes fixed on the tracks. They were joined by another set and there was a flattened area where it looked like someone had fallen. He panicked even more, and then saw Castiel continuing on past him, following more footprints. Dean followed him until he stopped abruptly. The footprints ended. Mary and Jack skidded up behind them.

"Where did he go?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," Castiel said tersely.

"What happened?" Jack asked.

"He didn't walk or run any farther. He was carried. There is only one angel on earth left that has wings."

"Michael," Mary whispered. She choked a sob and Dean wrapped her in his arms. She buried her face in his shoulder and cried against him.

Dean felt numb with shock. How could their fun, easy morning have transformed into this? Where the hell was Sam and how were they going to get him back?

"Yes," Castiel said. "He has Sam. He has declared it on angel radio. I heard it. He was excited enough that the power of his voice broke through the warding."

"Where has he taken him?" Jack asked nervously.

"I don't know," Castiel snapped. "He is just shouting about his success."

"How do we find him?" Mary asked, pulling back from Dean and looking imploringly at Castiel. "What do we do?"

"We have to wait for him to reveal himself or Beriah to reach out to me."

"We can't wait!" Dean said. "We have to help him. Michael could be doing anything to him!"

"I know," Castiel said. "But I don't know what else there is."

Dean raked a hand through his hair. Even now Sam could be hurting. He could be dying.

It had started.

* * *

When Sam's feet hit solid ground, he took a moment to catch his breath and looked around, purposefully avoiding Michael's gaze.

They were in a small church. The walls were old grey stone and there was a large altar raised on columns. The pews were dark wood, and dusty. In fact, the whole place seemed to be coated in a thick layer of dust. It was clear no one had been in there for a long time. On the walls were three paintings, barely discernable through the grime. Sam looked to the wooden doors but he knew there was no escaping now. Even if he made it outside, Michael would be there to drag him back. And he had no idea where in the world they were. The church was generic enough to be anywhere. There was no sign of any culture or particular language there.

"Do you like it?" Michael asked. "I do. Churches are designed to give praise to my Father. I appreciate that.

Sam finally looked at him. He could see the madness and glee burning in his eyes.

"It's great," he said. "Could do with a bit of cleaning though."

Michael looked thoughtful. "You're right. It'd be rude of me to keep you in a place like this."

Sam frowned. Was he seriously going to move them because the venue was dirty? Just how insane was he?"

He didn't move them though. He turned on the spot and waved a hand through the air in a sweeping gesture. It was as if a strong wind rushed past them and Sam shaded his eyes. When he lowered his arm, he saw that the room was clean again. The dust had disappeared, the fixture gleamed, and the paintings on the wall looked as new as if paint could still be drying on them.

Sam saw that one was a copy of an old Madonna and Child and another was of Jesus' crucifixion, but it was the third one that drew Sam's eye. It showed Michael defeating Lucifer. His sword was held high in triumph and he was holding Lucifer down with a foot.

"I believe the artist is called Reni," Michael said conversationally, seeing where Sam's attention lay. "He captured the emotion of the battle well, but it was far bloodier than he shows it as. Lucifer was a beautiful ruin before the end, some of my greatest work, excepting what I did to you of course."

Sam shuddered at the reminder.

"What happened to you loving your brother?" he asked. "That's what you told Dean."

"I did love him. More than any of my other brothers in fact. But then he caused me to be dragged into that Cage because he wasn't strong enough to hold you back. I gave up on loving him then. It is my Father and Raphael that I love now. They are my family."

"You've still not caught up on the fact Raphael's dead then? Cas exploded him. There's no coming back from that."

"Castiel exploded and came back. Is it so impossible to believe that Raphael did, too?"

Sam considered that, fear curling in his gut. Raphael was definitely stronger than Castiel, and he could have come back, but then why wouldn't God have utilized him against Amara? Raphael surely couldn't have hidden from Him. It had to be more of Michael's insanity coming to the fore.

"Yes," Sam said. "I'm sure God would have mentioned it when I last saw him."

Michael scoffed. "You saw God? I don't think so."

"Didn't anyone tell you?" Sam asked. "Your Aunty Amara got free and we had to deal with her."

"Amara?"

"The Darkness," Sam said. "It was a whole thing with Dean taking the Mark of Cain and us getting it off him again, but she was released. Your dad finally made an appearance and helped us out. No one mentioned it then? I guess they didn't want to upset you."

He had no control of the words spilling from him. He knew he was antagonizing Michael, but he couldn't stop. He felt empowered when he spoke, angry, and that was better than feeling fear.

"You're lying," Michael growled.

"No. You probably saw him even. I know Raphael did since he was protecting him and all. God was posing as the prophet Chuck all that time. Did you ever make a visit?"

"I would have known!"

"Apparently not. He didn't want you to know, so you would have been blind. I had some real good talks with him."

Michael's blade slipped into his hand and he came at Sam with a roar of anger. Sam had a split-second of regret before it was sinking into his gut. The pain seared and his shirt soaked quickly with blood as he fell back onto the hard floor. He coughed blood and felt it spatter his face.

Michael leered down at him. "This is your first death. There will be many more to come. When I have the nephilim here and Lucifer back, I will be able to indulge you with my attentions again."

Sam's head tilted to the side, and he watched as Michael strode out of the door. He knew it was going to be a long death as he slowly bled out and his stomach poisoned him, but he knew there was something important he had to do before he was gone. He needed to warn the others.

"Cas, don't come. Don't let anyone come. You can't bring Jack here. You have to leave me."

It wasn't bravery or defeat that drove him to say it. It was love. He had to protect them.

* * *

 **So… Poor Sammy. Another stab wound. I really went all out of the H/C part of this prompt.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	19. Chapter 18

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing and Gredelina1 for supporting and encouraging. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Eighteen**_

Dean always spoke about Winchester luck as if it was limited to him and Sam, but Castiel knew he was wrong. It extended to him, too. When he tried to do something good, it backfired on him almost every time. He was hurt or killed or, worse, others suffered because of his choices.

He had tried to help, reaching out to Beriah, and it had cost them Sam. He didn't know how it had happened because he was sure Beriah would never have betrayed him. Michael must have found them some other way. The reason was immaterial; it was the outcome that mattered, and that had been Sam's capture. He tried not to think of what could be happening to him now, but his mind gave him a multitude of possibilities against his will. He saw Sam suffering, and it was torture to him.

Things had just been too good. There was a plan in place for Michael. Sam was resting peacefully again. They all had hope for a future. They really should have known this was coming.

He drew the line of paint across the last sigil, breaking it, and the hum of angel radio returned to his mind. There were murmurs of Sam's name, shock that he had been captured, but very little evidence of happiness about it. Castiel was relived. He didn't want to hear his brothers and sisters celebrating what had happened. He wanted them to be better than that. He knew they could be if they tried.

He walked back down the stairs and through to the library where the others waited for him at the table. Mary had her arms folded on the table and her face buried against them. Jack sat at her side with his hand on her shoulder, looking shell-shocked, and Dean was opposite them with a glass of whiskey in his hand that looked untouched. It was an automatic response to stress for Dean to drink, he knew, and yet this time he had gone through the motions but not even taken a sip.

"Can I get anyone anything?" he asked, needing something, anything, to do but sit idle.

"Can you get my brother back?" Dean asked.

"I wish I could," Castiel said.

"Then, no, there's nothing else I want."

Castiel looked to Jack and he shook his head. He didn't disturb Mary, not wanting to break whatever level of calm she had achieved.

He sat down and looked from face to face, realizing how empty the room seemed without Sam's presence. He always seemed to fill a room with feeling. If he was happy, he radiated his joy, and if he was upset, it, too, was felt by others. He was such a big personality that even his large frame couldn't seem to hold it all.

"The wards are broken," he said unnecessarily; they all knew he would not be back if they weren't.

"Anything new on angel radio?" Dean asked.

"No. They seemed to be rather muted at the moment."

"Not celebrating then?" Dean asked. "I'd have thought they'd have the party mix out by now."

Castiel shook his head. "I don't think they're any happier about Michael's plot than we are. The thought of paradise has long since left them, and they're aware of what that battle could mean to the world. Having been forced participants of the human world by what Metatron did to us, their feelings have changed. No one wants the battle other than Michael and perhaps a handful of dedicated loyalists. I am listening for word from Michael or Beriah though. When they reveal where they are, we can act."

Dean shrugged. "You really think they will? I don't think Michael would want us interfering."

"He wouldn't," Castiel agreed. "But he needs Jack. He'll either contact us or come back here to strike, which I doubt because Sam was leading him away when he was taken, and he would have come for us then if he'd known our exact location. Sam saved us."

"Yeah, he does that," Dean said darkly. "Shame he couldn't try to save himself."

"He couldn't have fought against an archangel, Dean."

"No, but Jack could have. If he'd come back here instead of running off, Jack would've been able to protect him. The dumbass took off instead, and now he's gone and we're never…" He sucked in a breath.

Mary's head snapped up. "Never what? Getting him back? We are. We will find him and get him back, and Jack will kill Michael."

"How much of him will we get back though?" Dean asked. "He's been through hell with Michael before, and now that bastard has him back. You know what is happening to him right now; Sam told us what he threatened to do. He's probably dead right now, or worse, and it won't end there. Michael is going to break him and we're sitting here useless."

Mary was pale but her voice was firm as she said. "He will get through this. He's strong."

"There's only so far strength can take you," Dean said. "Everyone has a breaking point."

"Stop!" Mary shouted. "Don't give up on him, don't you dare. He is going to get through this. We will help him. When Michael is dead, when it's over, we will help him again, care for him until he's better."

"You think? Michael is probably killing him even now, and when he's dead, when he has peace, he'll be dragged back to go through it all again."

"Stop it!" Jack shouted. "You can't say this. He's coming back. He's going to be fine."

Mary's anger seemed to fail her and misery took over. "I know what's happening to him," she said in a choked voice. "And I know I can't help him yet. But when I can, when he's with us again, I am going to take care of him. I have to cling to that because otherwise I am going to lose my mind. Don't try to take that away from me, Dean."

"I'm sorry," Dean said quietly. "I'm just…"

"Scared," Mary supplied. "We all are. Sam is, too. So we have to be strong for him like he would be for us."

Castiel nodded. "He has…" Suddenly, the hum of angel radio was broken by a voice Castiel had been longing for. He leapt to his feet and gripped the edge of the table for support as he focused his mind, blocking out all other sound.

" _Cas, don't come. Don't let anyone come. You can't bring Jack here. You have to leave me."_

The voice was pained and weak though clearly trying to be strong. An image of Sam lying dying in a pool of blood flooded his mind, and he could see the effort it took for him to force the words out as clearly as if he was there watching him.

As the voice receded, Castiel shook his head to clear the vision of Sam and took a breath.

"What is it?" Dean asked eagerly. "What did you hear? Was it Michael?"

"No," Castiel said quietly. "It was Sam."

Dean leapt to his feet, too, sending his chair clattering back. "What did he say?"

Castiel took a breath. "He told us not to come."

"He did what?" Mary asked shrilly.

Dean was nodding. He understood what was happening as easily as Castiel had. It was such a Sam move. He was sacrificing himself to protect them, the same way he had when he run from the bunker instead of to it and Jack's protection.

"He said we had to leave him, that we couldn't risk Jack. Obviously Michael has taken him to draw Jack in so he can try to utilize him to open a rift again."

"I wouldn't do that though," Jack said. "I swear I wouldn't. Sam knows that, too. Why wouldn't he want us to come?"

"I don't think he's thinking clearly," Castiel said. "He knows you wouldn't, but he is scared now, trapped with Michael, and he is transferring the threat Michael poses to him to the rest of us."

"But we're going anyway?" Jack said.

"Absolutely," Dean said determinedly. "Did you get any idea of where he was, Cas?"

Castiel shook his head. "He told me and showed me nothing else. All I saw was my own imaginings. There was no sense of location at all."

"How did he sound?" Mary asked.

Castiel couldn't tell her the truth without hurting her even more than she was already, so he chose the feeling Sam wanted to convey rather than the one he actually had. "He was being strong."

She nodded. "Good. I knew he would."

Dean raised a doubtful eyebrow, but Castiel avoided his eye.

"What do we do now?" Jack asked. "How can we find him if he don't know where he is?" He paled. "I could find him! I had to think of and feel for him last time I opened the rift. We could do that again. I can open a rift to wherever he is."

"No!" Castiel said quickly. "We don't know how they work properly. You reached Mary's world through Sam's need. If it worked that way for Michael, too, he could hijack the rift and use it to get to Lucifer. We cannot risk that happening."

Jack frowned. "But Sam…"

"Would never want this from us," Castiel said. "We will find him, and soon, but we cannot risk that. Michael doesn't want Sam alone. He wants you. Sooner or later we will find out where he is and then we can go to him. I know you want this, Jack, we all do, but we cannot deliver what Michael wants for Sam's sake. That would destroy him as completely as anything."

Mary looked desolate, but she nodded. "He's right, Jack. We can't do it like that."

Jack scowled. "Then we just have to wait, while Sam is hurting."

Mary swallowed hard. "Yes. We do. It breaks my heart, too, but we can't be the ones to hurt him like that."

Dean picked up his chair and sat down again. Castiel made to sit, too, but then another voice came to him, louder and more powerful than Sam's, confident and proud: Michael. _"Castiel! Can you hear me, fallen one?"_

"Yes," Castiel replied.

"What?" Dean asked.

Castiel held up a hand to silence him. He needed to concentrate.

" _I have the Winchester. Have you missed him yet?"_

"Where do you have him?" he asked, hearing Dean suck in a shocked breath.

" _Where else would I bring him but to the place where it all began? You should come to him. He is weak now, breaking. He won't last much longer."_

Castiel closed his eyes as pain burned though him. "Where, Michael? If you want us to come, we need to know where to find you."

" _Do you really not know?"_

"No."

" _You are not half as intelligent as the stories would have me believe. Raphael said you succeeded in banishing him once. How did you manage that with such slow wits?"_

"With help. Now, tell me."

" _I need a promise from you first, Castiel. Will you bring the nephilim? I won't tell you unless you will."_

Castiel could answer honestly as there was no way they could go and not be massacred upon their arrival without Jack. "I will."

" _Good,"_ Michael said gleefully. _"In that case, I will tell you._ _We are at the place it all began."_

Frustrated by the archangel's obvious insanity driven vagueness, he snapped, "I don't know where that is, Michael! If you want us to come, you have to be clear."

He sounded amused. _"Stull, Castiel. Where else would it be? I will see you soon."_

The voice disappeared and Castiel was left breathless.

"Where is he?" Mary asked. "Did he tell you?"

Castiel looked at Dean. "Stull."

Dean winced. "He took Sam back there?"

"He said it is the place it all began."

Dean got to his feet again and said, "Good. We know where he is. We need to arm ourselves."

"No weapon we have will hurt Michael; only Jack has a chance against him."

"I know," Dean said. "But he's not going to be alone, is he? He'll have other angels with him, and we're going to have to go through them to get to Sam." He turned to Jack. "Sam is a three-hour drive away. If we do that, Sam's going to suffer for those hours. It's time to strap your wings on Jack."

"I don't know how!" Jack said desperately.

"You do," Castiel said. "It is like any other skill you possess. You just need to try. Sam thought you were scared to try because it would leave us unprotected. You have to let go of that fear now, Jack. Sam is unprotected, and he needs us to get to him. Dean is right; Sam is hurting without us. We have to get there fast."

Jack looked afraid as he asked. "How do I find him?"

"Search for him. You found him in the Cage, and you will find him now. Can you try? For Sam?"

Jack was perfectly still for a moment, seeming to be waging some internal battle. His hands fisted at his sides and he said, "Yes. I can do it."

"Good," Dean said as Mary cast him a grateful smile. "Let's get ready then."

* * *

Dean opened the trunk of the Impala and lifted the false base to reveal the weapons trove beneath.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to seeing her like this," Mary said. "A traveling armory."

Dean shrugged. "It's the only way I've ever known her. And it's the best way to do it. If we carry it all with us where we go, it's always on hand when we need it."

"I know," she said. "She was supposed to be a family car though. Well, she was supposed to be a van, but John changed his mind at the last minute."

Dean nodded. "I think that might be my fault. I was with Dad when he brought her, and I helped change his mind. It's home though, always has been for me and Sammy, and I couldn't let it pass us by." He touched the smooth paintwork and swallowed the lump in his throat. "It's Sam's home more than the bunker."

"And it will be again." She laid her hand over his where it rested and squeezed his fingers.

Dean nodded and rooted through the weapons for the angel blades they'd accumulated. There were quite a few because so many angels had been lost in recent years. He grabbed one for himself, handed one to Mary and closed the trunk. He started to walk away, and then realized she wasn't with him. He turned back and saw her standing with her hands pressed to the trunk and her head bowed.

He walked back to her and put his hand on her arm. "Mom?"

"I'm scared, Dean," she said, keeping her head bowed. "I'm so scared for him. I can handle anything that happens to me, but if one of you is hurt… Jack isn't trained enough for this. He's never even teleported before. We're pinning all our hopes on him, and we have no idea what's going to happen. And Sam. What if he's dead when we get there? He will have to go through that healing again, the pain, and I don't think I can bear it. He's strong, I know, and he'll come through, but what he's going to suffer before then is too much. I can't bear to see either of you boys suffering, and if Sam does, you do, too."

"I know," Dean said heavily. "All we can do is get there and hope he's alive. I'm scared, too, but Sam needs us to be strong for him. We have to hold on."

Mary took a deep breath, wiped at her eyes, and nodded. "Yeah. I know. I will be. I was just having a moment."

They walked together back to the library where Castiel and Jack were waiting. Castiel had three beer bottles on the table with rags sticking out of the neck.

"Holy oil?" Dean asked.

Castiel nodded. "Just in case."

"Everyone got a lighter?" he asked and they nodded. "Good. No throwing these anywhere near Sam." He was sure none of them would, but he had to say it for his own peace of mind.

"Jack, are you ready?" Castiel asked.

"Yes," he said nervously.

"It's just like before; search for Sam and when you find him, hold to our energies too and allow yourself to be drawn to him. It will happen naturally as long as you are not afraid."

"I can't stop being scared, Castiel."

"You can. You can focus on being strong for Sam. Think what he needs you to be."

"Okay." Jack closed his eyes and his brow furrowed. There was a moment of silence and then a small smile curled his lips. "I've got him. He's reaching. I didn't think he would be. He didn't want us."

"He may have said he didn't want us, but he knows in his heart that he needs us," Castiel said. "There is a difference. He is reaching for you to help him. Now take us to him."

Dean felt a jerk and swoop in his stomach, and then the bunker disappeared and they were gone.

* * *

 **So… It's game time. They're on their way to Sam and Michael. I couldn't think of anywhere on earth at all that had meaning but Stull, so I ran with it. Luckily, by scouring pictures—which was very traumatic given Swan Song feels—I spotted a chapel in the background of the cemetery.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	20. Chapter 19

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing and Gredelina1 for supporting and encouraging. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Nineteen**_

It was like arriving into a familiar nightmare. Dean had seen this so many times in his dreams. He almost expected the blows to come straight away, to see Sam fall.

Michael was standing at the spot where Dean was almost certain the portal to the Cage had opened last time. He looked thoughtful, as if he was lost in his mind and not there with them. Dean's eyes scoured the cemetery, but there was no sign of Sam at all.

"Where's my brother, you son of a bitch?" he demanded.

Michael blinked twice and seemed to come back into focus. His eyes moved among them until they landed on Jack and a wide, satisfied smile curled his lips. "You came!"

"Where is Sam?" Castiel asked.

"All in good time, Castiel. Let me enjoy my triumph first. I have been waiting a long time. They call you, Jack, yes? Well, Jack, I am so happy to meet you. We are going to do great things together. You will bring your father back and I will defeat him and change the world. You are vital to that task." He nodded, his eyes alight with excitement and madness.

Sam had told them he'd lost his mind, and there was no denying it looking at him. It was in his jerky movements and his delighted face. Dean wondered how Sam had been with the maniac for so long and not lost his own mind completely.

"I am not doing anything for you," Jack said darkly.

Michael didn't seem to hear him. He was rambling on and toeing a spot in the grass. "I would like the rift to be created exactly on this spot. I think it would be poetic to do it here again, and then we will be in the foretold place for the battle. You might want to stand back when it happens. It will be a little dangerous, though I suppose not for you. The humans and seraph will die, of course, but that will save me from having to do it once Lucifer is gone."

Jack looked nervous and Castiel brushed against his arm.

"Where is Sam?" Dean asked again, his voice rising with his frustration.

Michael finally looked at him properly. He tilted his head. "You brought weapons? What do you think you're going to do to me with a mere angel blade?"

"We brought these, too," Mary said, raising her Molotov.

Michael frowned at her. "Yes, you did. I didn't enjoy that last time. I think we can do away with them. And you."

He raised his hand, fingers pressed together, and Dean knew what would come next. He had seen Lucifer explode Castiel like that. He shouted an inarticulate warning and grabbed his mother's arm as the same moment Castiel shouted, "Jack!"

There was a rush of warmth as Jack pointed an arm at them and Dean saw a gold aura appear around his mother and himself.

Michael snapped his fingers, but nothing happened. He frowned and tried again, but they were protected.

"Stop!" Jack snapped. His voice was loud and there was a high-pitched echo to it that Dean recognized from Castiel using his true voice. "You will not touch them!"

The sky above them darkened as clouds rolled overhead and blocked the sun. Jack stood straight and tall; there was no sign of his previous nerves. He was scary and as dangerous as Dean had always believed he could be.

"I really will," Michael said. "I owe them for what they did to me. Perhaps not the woman, though she had a part in it I suppose through their creation and inherent stubbornness. They were supposed to be our vessels, but only one gave consent, and that did not end well."

"Where is my son?" Mary asked.

"He's just fine where he is," Michael said. "It's not time for him yet. He's enjoying the company of some friends right now. I did promise him after all."

Dean swallowed hard at the meaning the words held. Sam was being tortured even now. "Where is he?" When Michael merely smiled, his voice rose to a shout, "Sammy!"

Castiel's head snapped to the right and he looked shocked. "The chapel, Dean!"

Dean sprinted away toward the chapel with Mary beside him. Michael called after them, demanding that they come back, but Dean ignored him. He could try to hurt them, to kill them, but they would die trying to get to Sam.

He flung open the doors of the chapel and rushed in. Sam was on the floor, leaning against the column of an altar. His eyes were closed and he was coated with blood with slashes in his shirt. There were two angels working over him, cutting into his arms and chest with their angel blades. Dean felt sick at the sight.

"Sammy," he whispered.

The angels appeared so occupied in their sport that they didn't notice them entering, but when Sam made a low moan in apparent response to Dean's voice, they turned.

"More Winchesters," the female angel said. "Wonderful."

Mary rushed forward, her Molotov dropped but the blade gripped tightly in her hand. Dean saw the strike coming, and he rushed after her.

The male angel punched her across the jaw and she was driven back, but the blade stayed clutched in her hand.

"You bastard," she hissed.

Sam was left alone now as both angels fixed their attentions on Dean and Mary. The woman began to circle Dean, her blade held as if searching for the right place to strike. Dean gripped his own blade tightly and searched for an opening as Mary mimicked his movements with the male. The woman struck out with her blade and Dean dodged back then, as her blade swung past him, he jerked forward and plunged the blade into her arm.

She screamed as the man shouted, "Beriah!"

"You're Beriah?" Dean asked. "Cas said you were a good angel, not a monster."

"People change," she said, the hand that was still holding her blade pressed over the wound that was bleeding lightly.

Dean struck again, catching her off guard with a slice across her hand. She dropped the blade and Dean struck again. He stabbed her through the heart and she dropped like a stone, ashes of wings spread out on the floor beneath her.

Dean turned from her to the angel that was fighting his mother and he saw that she had him pinned with her knife held against his throat.

"You okay, Mom?" he asked.

"Yeah. Help Sam."

Dean dropped down beside his brother, repulsed by the blood that covered him. "Sammy?" he said, tapping his cheek. Sam's head fell forward so his chin rested against his chest. "Sam!" Wake up!"

"Dean?" Mary asked.

"I don't know!" he snapped, knowing what she meant. Was Sam alive?

He lifted Sam's head and held his hand a little away from his mouth. No breaths warmed his hand. He pressed shaking fingers to Sam's throat and felt for the thrum of life. There was none.

"Mom, he's gone," he said, his voice wrecked.

Mary closed her eyes a moment and then spoke to the angel she was holding. "Bring him back! Now!"

He laughed. "You really think I'd do that for you, to _him_? He deserves death for what he has done in his life."

Mary pushed the blade forward slightly, breaking the skin. "Save him!"

He just smiled at her. Dean grabbed him and, tears burning his eyes, pushed his hand to Sam's face. "Do it now!" he ordered.

The angel laughed again. "I will not."

Still holding the angel's hand in place, Dean jabbed his blade into the angel's groin. He howled in pain and Dean felt a grim satisfaction.

"You know Sam, so you know me, too," he said. "You know what I excelled at in Hell. I will put every lesson to use on you unless you save my brother."

"You're going to kill me anyway," he rasped, the blade dug into his throat.

"I am. But how fast that happens is up to you. Save him and go fast, or not and suffer. Either way, I am getting my brother back." He pulled his blade back and held it ready for another strike.

The angel sighed, defeated, and said, "You'll make it fast?"

"I will," Mary said, her voice cold and hard. Dean noticed she had her eyes fixed on the angel's face instead of either of her sons'.

The angel nodded very slightly and light began to pour from his hand into Sam. Dean watched, transfixed, as the visible wounds healed. Sam drew a heaving breath and Dean dropped beside him, hand on the back of Sam's neck, pulling his face into his shoulder.

"You're okay," he said. "You're fine. Me and Mom are here."

He felt Sam's miraculous breath against his neck and he was infinitely relived. They had him back.

"You said you'd kill me quickly," the angel said. "I did as you asked."

Dean glanced up at Mary and nodded. She smiled as she shoved the blade through the angel's throat, and didn't even bother to pull it out before dropping down beside them.

"Sam?" she said gently.

Sam raised his head slowly from Dean's shoulder and gave them a weary smile. It was jarring to see the smile through the blood smeared around him, but his words were strong as he asked, "What took you so long?"

Dean laughed, despite the tears streaming down his cheeks. "You told us not to come, remember?"

"Yeah, but we both know you never listen to me." He smudged away the tears from Dean's cheek. "What are you crying for? Nobody died. Well, I did, but what else is new?"

Mary choked a sob and Sam smiled at her. "Where's Cas and Jack?"

Dean gasped. In the horror of finding Sam and fighting the angels, he had forgotten the rest of his family. "With Michael!"

Sam eyes widened and he scrambled to his feet. Dean stood and tried to support him, but he clearly didn't need the assistance as he stormed from the chapel.

Dean and Mary rushed after him as he marched toward Michael, his hands fisted at his sides. Dean jogged up behind him and grabbed his arm, thinking Sam was going to attack Michael himself.

"Michael!" he roared.

Jack and Castiel looked horrified as they saw him, and Jack paled with anger. Sam did make a shocking sight, streaked with blood with his tattered shirt.

Jack turned murderous eyes on Michael and said, "Did you do that to him?"

Michael appraised Sam. "Some. I can't take credit for it all. Beriah and Cameal had their part in it, too. Are they dead?" he asked conversationally.

"Yes," Sam said bitterly, the muscles in his arm tensing under Dean's hand.

"Pity. I liked them."

"Beriah?" Castiel asked.

"Ah, yes, she said she was once a friend of yours," he said. "I brought her around to my way of thinking though."

"Yeah?" Sam asked. "Just the two of them? What happened to your army?"

"They will join me when it's time," he said. "Now, Jack, if you would, please open the rift now. I would like to commence the killing."

"You hurt Sam," Jack said dangerously.

He nodded eagerly. "I did."

Dean saw the anger building in Jack and he stoked it. "He more than hurt him, Jack. Sam was dead."

Jack's fisted hands began to shake. "I will kill you."

"No, you won't," Michael said easily. "You will help me. That is your destiny. God told me. He would never let you hurt me again."

Castiel scoffed. "Father came back, Michael. He was with us, and he didn't care about you. He could have plucked you from the Cage, but he didn't. He could have used you even, to battle The Darkness, but He chose not to. He has no use for you anymore."

"He has spoken to me. He has–"

"That is your own mind speaking to you," Sam said. "I know how that feels. You're not speaking to God any more than I was Lucifer. You're just going insane."

"No!" Michael shouted, and the sound hurt Dean's ears. "He told me."

"It's madness, Michael," Castiel said. "You've lost your mind."

Michael raised the blade and stalked towards Castiel. Dean acted instinctively. He was not watching Castiel die again, not in this damned place or ever again. He jumped in front of him and Sam and Mary rushed to flank him. Castiel was protected behind them.

Michael laughed. "You think you can protect him?"

"Yes, we can." Jack said. "You will not hurt my father." He held up an open palm to the group around Castiel and Dean felt the same warmth as golden light settled over them all again.

"Father?" Michael scoffed. "Lucifer is your father, boy."

"No," Jack said through his teeth. "Castiel is. Lucifer is just a… sire."

Michael clapped his hand to his chest. "Does that make you an honorary Winchester, too?"

"Yes," Sam said. "It does."

"You should watch yourself then, Jack," he said. "The Winchesters have very limited lifespans; just ask Adam. Of course, you all have limited lifespans now. I will kill Dean first, then the woman, Sam will last a little longer until I eviscerate him, and then it'll be the turn of Castiel… your _father."_

Jack seemed to shudder with rage. The sky above darkened further and thunder rumbled in the distance.

"Do it, Jack," Sam said. "End him."

Jack nodded once and then launched himself at Michael. He drew back a fist and slammed it into Michael's jaw, sending Michael reeling back. At the same moment, a clap of thunder sounded overheard and a bolt of lightning touched down a few feet from where they fought. Dean felt the static ripple over him.

Michael straightened with a hand on his jaw. Dean was willing to bet that he hadn't fought someone that posed an actual threat to him since Lucifer was cast into the Cage. He was clearly stunned that Jack had been able to hurt him. He surged forward and aimed for Jack with his blade, but Jack smiled as he put to use the combat lessons they'd given him. He grabbed Michael's wrist and twisted it behind him. Michael roared and thunder rumbled close enough for the pressure to make Dean's ears pop. He was not ashamed to admit that Jack was actually scaring him.

"You will not touch them," Jack shouted, the whine of an angel's voice bleeding into his tone.

He kicked Michael away from him and raised his fists. Michael was incensed, and he came at Jack again. Jack dropped and swept his feet out from under him. He sprawled back onto the long grass and Jack pressed his foot to the archangel's wrist, pressing down and making Michael cry out as the blade slipped from his nerveless fingers.

Dean rushed forward and picked it up. Jack looked at him, and Dean saw his eyes were tawny gold and wide. "Do it," Dean said, handing him the blade. "End him."

"For Sam?" Jack asked.

"For Sam and the rest of us. Make him pay for what he has done. Save the world."

Jack gripped the blade in both hands and raised it above his head. There was a moment in which Michael might have tried to fight, but he just stared up at Jack as if not believing what he was seeing. As Jack slammed the blade down in the exact spot Sam still bore a scar from the same blade, Michael howled, "Father!"

"He's not coming," Dean said.

Michael convulsed and then stilled as twin bolts of lightning struck at the exact tips of the ashy wings that spread beneath him. His eyes stared wide and unseeing up at the sky, which was clearing of the storm. Dean bent and closed them. "Sorry, Adam," he whispered.

Jack staggered back and Sam caught him. "It's okay," he said gently.

Jack nodded quickly, obviously in shock at what he had done. "I did it."

"You did," Dean said, nudging his shoulder. "You just saved the world. How does it feel?"

Jack looked at Sam in his blood-soaked and tattered clothes. "Are you okay, Sam?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "You saved me, too."

"It feels good," Jack admitted. He looked down at the body on the floor. "What do we do with him?"

"Michael is gone," Sam said. "All that's left is a kid named Adam now. So we give him a hunter's funeral. He's earned that."

Dean nodded soberly. Adam had earned it. His body had been ridden by Michael for a long time. He could only hope his soul had some peace now. He deserved that.

"Here?" Jack asked.

"No. Take us home. We'll do it there," Sam said. "We don't need to be here anymore."

Dean looked at him and thought that, though the words were heartfelt—Sam was hating being back in Stull as much as he was—he was handling it. He had been tortured and killed again, but he was dealing. It might take time for the reality that it was over to set in, for him to realize Michael really was gone, but it would be okay. They were together and it was over. Asmodeus needed to be dealt with if they were going to have real peace, but that would come in time.

For now, they could rest awhile.

* * *

 **So… Michael is dead. About damn time. All should be good for them now. Jack can handle anything else that comes at them. There is a short epilogue left and then the story will be over. Hope you've enjoyed.**

 **Until next time…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	21. Epilogue

**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for everything you do all under the umbrella of beta'ing and friendship. Thank you Gredelina1 for supporting me throughout. Thank you Anon for the prompt that started this whole journey, and you all for reading and reviewing. I appreciate every one of you.**

 **Enjoy the Pilot xxx**

* * *

 ** _Epilogue_**

Jack carried the bowl of green beans through to the library and set it on the table. It was already piled with food, and there was more to come. Mary and Dean carried through more platters and Sam followed with an enormous ham.

"Sit down then," Dean said, when the table was heaped with food. "I want to eat.

Jack pushed the chairs out for them all, smiling as they laughed, and sat down. Sam placed thick slices of ham on plates and handed them to Dean, Mary, and Jack.

"Load up, Jack," Dean said, reaching for the potatoes.

Jack reached for the buttered carrots and then paused. "I'm still not sure what we're celebrating," he said.

Dean rolled his eyes. "It's Christmas. Baby's Jesus' birthday."

"Baby Jesus, Dean?" Sam asked with a tempered smile.

"Yes," Dean said doggedly. "He was born today, so that's what we're celebrating: _Baby_ Jesus _."_

Sam coughed to hide a laugh. "Technically he wasn't, you know."

"Wasn't what?" Dean asked, exchanging the bowl of potatoes with Jack for the carrots.

"Born today. It's far more likely that he was born in September."

Dean gaped at him. "You're kidding me!"

"No. It makes no sense for him to be born in December if the story is right. The censuses were never collected in winter as the roads were impassable, and the shepherds wouldn't have been out with their flocks then."

"Then why do we celebrate now?" Dean asked.

"Because it was already the time of a pagan celebration, and they wanted to bring the pagans over the Christianity, so they made it easier by merging the festivals. Right, Cas?"

Castiel nodded.

"So, we're not celebrating a birthday?" Jack asked.

"Yes we are," Dean said firmly. "We're just celebrating a little late. It'd be rude not to. Cas is a big fan of his."

"Yeah, it's about Cas," Mary said. "You're not just interested in the food at all."

Dean shrugged. "I'm not gonna lie, the food does make it a little more special."

Sam laughed.

More confused than ever, Jack looked to Mary for an explanation. She usually untangled these things for him when Sam and Dean confused him.

"It's supposed to be about religion, Jack, but for most people it's just a day to be with family and celebrate each other and to be thankful."

"Thankful," he said musingly. "I thought we did the thankful one last month when we celebrated that massacre of indigenous people by pilgrims."

"Sam!" Dean said loudly, and Sam ducked his head. "You ruined Thanksgiving for him, too!"

"I didn't ruin it," Sam said with a grin. "I just told him the truth behind the story."

Dean scowled. "That is ruining it."

Sam opened his mouth and then seemed to think better of engaging. He turned to Castiel instead and asked, "Cas, did Gabriel really deliver the message to Mary?"

"Yes," Castiel said.

Dean snorted. "Wow, wonder how that went."

"It wasn't exactly as your Bible would have you believe," Castiel said. "Though Gabriel was very different at the time to the angel you knew, he was still a little more lighthearted that my other brothers."

"So we don't do the thankful part?" Jack asked.

"No, this time our thanks are internal," Mary said.

Jack nodded. It was a shame they weren't saying what they were thankful for, because this time he knew exactly what he would say. He was thankful for them all and the place in their family they had offered him. He loved them all.

* * *

 **So… That's where it ends. I think it's a nice place to finish, with them all together and happy. The story feels complete to me. How about you?**

 **Until the next story, whatever that may be…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


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